Penance
by RowenVelvet
Summary: She was dying, he could see it in her eyes, but if he wasn't careful his attempt to save her might kill them both... How far would you go to make up for your mistakes?  WARNING: Contains foul language, violence, and in later chapters, a lemon or two
1. Chapter 1: Best laid Plans

_First and foremost, to my most awesome beta reader and story adviser **Zonkiethegreat**:_

_Thanks so much for being my fresh eyes on this story, I really do appreciate the bluntness and honesty you've given me throughout this process. This story wouldn't be half of what it is today without your opinions and insights... _

_**Spoiler alert:**This story takes place three years after the first anime and the movie Conqueror of Shamballa, if you haven't seen them yet, what are you waiting for? Go watch them, they're on netflix. _

_The usual disclaimers apply, I am not Hiromu Arakawa, nor do I own any rights to FMA._

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o._  
><em>

_**Chapter 1  
>Best Laid Plans<strong>_

She'd come to, laying in an awkwardly twisted position, sprawled onto her back and side. How long had she been unconscious? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? It was difficult to tell. What was not difficult to tell, was the pain she was in...

The surface below her was terribly uneven with a multitude of sharp, small, points that dug painfully into her flesh. It was freezing, and while the wind wasn't brisk, it certainly didn't help matters any. So, pulling up her knees, she rolled fully onto her back for a moment, finding more sharp points to torment her.

As she did so, she spared a glance up into a starry night sky that was broken by long strips of thick fast moving clouds. Their undersides occasionally lit by brief yellow orange flashes, that preceded not thunder, but the horrific thunderous booms of distant explosions.

_ God, where am I?_

Forcing herself up into a crouch, she vaguely registered a complaint from her knee, and retained an even vaguer recollection of having scraped it somehow. All that was temporarily forgotten, however, as she was overwhelmed by the relief of escaping those dagger like points.

Wrapping her arms around herself as she stood, she began to rub her hands up and down them in an attempt to return some warmth and circulation to the upper portions. It was truly frigid but she couldn't understand why, it was August not November and the city had been in the grip of a record heat wave with no relief in sight.

She turned a circle, trying to figure out where she was, and could just make out the jagged lines of broken walls. A few tree tops peeked over, silhouetted against the stars beyond. She seemed to be in a ruin, and fairly high up, as she could not make out the horizon in any direction.

She made to take a step towards one of the lower breaches, to see if she could spot anything else that might be of use, when her knee registered another complaint. At almost that exact moment, a nearly full moon broke free of the clouds and for the briefest instant, revealed a dark crumpled figure not five feet from of her.

It was all to confusing. She froze as some coldly logical part of her mind pointed out that the moon had been new just two days ago, so it shouldn't be nearly full again already... But the rest of her mind had refocused on the significance of the pain in her knee and who it meant the person before her was... because though it was still a bit fuzzy in places, she was beginning to remember how exactly she had come to be here, wherever _here_ was.

Cautiously she advanced toward him. The moon had already retreated back beneath the clouds plunging them, once again, into near total darkness. Crouching down beside him, she tentatively reached out and took hold of his shoulder, giving it a shake... Nothing. Again, she shook him. This time with a bit more vigor, and quietly called his name... Still nothing, not even a deep breath, in fact he didn't seem to be moving at all.

Constantly changing light levels caused by the varying thickness of the cloud cover, played merry hell with her night vision, and made it exceedingly difficult for her to tell if he was even breathing or not. Biting her lip nervously, she touched his cheek, only to jerk her hand away. Falling backward, she gasped and skittered back like a crab.

_ He was cold...Ice cold._

"Oh, god" she gasped again, coming to a stop against a steep pile of rubble near the corner and pulling her knees up to her chest.

She knew she should go back to him, check for a pulse, but she couldn't bring herself to confirm her suspicions. Instead she dropped her head into her hands, whose shaking had nothing to do with the cold, and tried rend control back from the fear and hopelessness she felt. The one thing she knew for sure, was that if she let herself go into shock now, by the morning they'd both be dead...

.o0o.

When he'd first regained consciousness, the frigid, near perfect darkness had almost convinced him that he'd been right about not being strong enough, that he had been trapped in the void. All to soon, though, his senses began to return. He came to the realization that the darkness was not complete, and he'd become vividly aware of sharp aches in his shoulder and hip (resulting, he guessed, from how he had landed when he arrived), as well as a number of sharp points digging into his ribs (which turned out to be gravely bits of broken masonry)... He assumed those who had been stripped of their physical form probably didn't feel pain, they probably didn't feel much of anything at all.

So he must be somewhere... The real question was where? Distant sounds reminiscent of a much darker time in his past, further assured him of his return to reality, but said little of his location,... other than in trouble.

Groaning he lurched upright, both for a better look around, and in an attempt to relieve some of the pain his previous position had been causing him. The action elicited a gasp from somewhere off to his left.

Spinning in that direction, he instinctively snapped his fingers, intending to light the place up, but nothing happened. Looking down at his gloved hands he snapped again, but his fingers emitted nothing more than the natural sparks usually produced by the fabric.

No time to think about that now. Whoever it was clearly had him at a disadvantage... He turned his attention back to the shadowy outline, trying to make out any identifying characteristics. It was too dark, so achingly, he forced himself to his feet hoping he would not have to fight them, but preparing for it none the less.

"Who's there?" he demanded, his voice rough from cold and disuse.

Another gasp emanated from that dark corner, then came a voice that chilled his bones more than the wind that whipped through this derelict ruin.

"I thought you were dead..."

As he drew closer, clouds cleared the moon and his eyes told him what his mind already knew. A truth that nearly brought him to his knees. It hadn't been just some void conjured nightmare, she was here.

.o0o.

She'd still been in that huddled position when he'd suddenly lurched upright. Her gasp garnering the sound of one glove muffled snap followed quickly by a second...

For one terror filled moment she'd believed she would die erupting into a mass of flames, and that coldly logical part of her brain had even noted the irony of that fate considering how cold she was... but nothing had happened.

Monumentally relieved to be wrong, she'd been unable to keep from blurting out her fears. All though upon hearing the sound of her voice it had been his turn to gasp, as the moon once again broke through and revealed them to one another.

He looked as though he had been struck, and it was some time before he spoke again. She hadn't minded the long pause, though, as it had taken her a moment to get over the shock mostly of having him abruptly sit up when she had truly believed him passed on.

"Are you alright?" he asked when he'd finally regained his bearings.

His voice still retained that regimented military tone, despite all that had gone on, and she found that it still grated on her nerves the way it always had...

"I'm freezing, can you make a fire?" she pleaded, allowing that edge of annoyance to creep in as her voice wavered from the now body wide tremors.

"No" he answered flatly, but failed to elaborate further.

Suddenly it occurred to her that something must have gone wrong... Perhaps his gloves had gotten wet or the arrays had been damaged... Whatever the case, he brought her musing to an end when he drew closer and performed the quasi-chivalrous act of handing her his jacket.

It was gesture that normally would have pissed her off, especially coming from him. But at the moment the short sleeves of her thin cotton blouse, and the seemingly increasing winds, conspired to leave her feeling less than stoic.

So she had accepted it without comment, then tried to curl as much of her already well chilled body under it as she could. It was little help, she was shivering in earnest now, and he sat huddled against the wall in a similar position a short distance away, doing his best to hide his own tremors from her. She pulled her head under the jacket, in an effort to raise her body temperature, but still she felt no change.

Though she knew it was brought on primarily by fear and discomfort, she felt herself growing terribly annoyed at him... Alchemy was all well and fine, but for the love of all that was good, why couldn't the man just carry matches?

.o0o.

He sat against the wall hugging his knees, she was huddled on the hard ground a short distance away, shivering under his jacket. Without a fire, he was thankful to at least have the moon light, it was not warm but at least they were not in complete darkness. As more of his senses slowly returned, he listened to the chatter of her teeth, and realized that though his were not, it was only by force of will.

_ This will not do..._

"Get up and come here" he said softly. A shadow among shadows, she poked her head out from beneath the jacket and glared over at him.

"What do you want?"she demanded

"Just do as I ask-"

Realizing how harshly he'd spoken, he forced his voice to a more neutral level

"...please."

He tried to remind himself that, as experienced as she was, she was still just a civilian, not some recruit to be broken down and built back up again. Shivering uncontrollably and muttering angrily to her self, she stood allowing the jacket to fall to the ground as she started toward him

"Bring the jacket with you."

She stopped dead, eying him suspiciously. Though she said nothing, it wasn't difficult to decipher her thoughts.

"Look, I know the situation isn't ideal, but at the present rate we'll both freeze to death long before dawn." he said as though speaking to a child.

Then, as if to illustrate his point, a frigid gust whipped through the tiny alcove of fallen rock and mortar they now occupied. Her movements made jerky by the cold, she hesitantly collected the jacket and moved to him. Satisfied she was finally listening to reason, he changed position slightly on the charred, broken boards he'd laid down in order to insulate himself from the cold stone. Once settled, he motioned to the space in front of him.

"Have a seat"

She complied, but shot him another suspicious glare when he indicated that she should move back against him.

"I assure you my intentions go no further than trying to insure we survive the night" He bit out through clenched jaw, the growing aggravation apparent in his voice.

Stiffly she moved back until his legs were on either side of her and her back was pressed against his chest

"Remind me again why we couldn't just build a fire..." she muttered as he took the jacket from her and drew it around them both.

He tried to hold back, really he did, but exasperation finally won out.

"Just what do you think it is you are hearing?" He said, his voice a dangerous hiss. "Those pops aren't party favors, and that rumble in the distance? It isn't thunder... Though perhaps it might not be to you, it is clear to me that there is some sort of battle being waged near by... So maybe, _just maybe_, it might not be such a good idea to draw attention to ourselves... Do You Agree!"

But that was only part of the reason, really more of an excuse... Truth was, the moon light had revealed there was nothing wrong with the transmutation circles on his gloves. A few more cursory scribbles of charcoal on the ground as she huddled beneath the jacket, and his suspicions had been confirmed... Wherever here was, he was at a truly terrifying disadvantage, and any optimism he might have about surviving this was quickly fading.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to quell the knot of real fear that had begun to build within him, as he returned his attention to her. She'd hunched forward during his short but effective tirade, and now sat with her forehead upon her knees. Suddenly her whole body gave a shudder clearly not caused by the cold, and he realized she was crying.

He felt a stab of guilt at the selfishness of his outburst. He was an idiot. It wasn't her fault that he'd never learned to make a normal fire without a match, or that he'd grown so reliant on alchemy that he'd never conceived of a place or time when he wouldn't have it if he needed it ... She was the one who should be angry, it wasn't like she'd asked to be here... Though he still wasn't entirely sure why or how she'd come to be here...

"You truly won't be content until you've wiped every one of us out..." she whispered, sobbing quietly.

It wasn't really a question, more like a sad, defeated, declaration of fact. Another stab of guilt. He sighed again and resisted the urge to slam the back of his head into the masonry he was leaning against.

Drawing a deep breath, he laid a hand gently on her shoulder. She tensed, turning to look up at him with fear and trepidation.

"I'm-"

But he stopped himself, letting the breath out in a rush. He couldn't say he was sorry, she'd never believe him. Carefully, he schooled his features to keep them neutral, then started again with a different tack.

"I think we'll be safe here till morning." he said gently "Once it's daylight, we'll be able to see whats around us, and figure out what to do. We can't do anything until then, so try to get some sleep."

With that, he let his hand fall away from her shoulder. After a moment, she nodded once mutely, then looked away to wipe her face. Satisfied that all evidence of her tears had been discarded, she once more leaned stiffly back against his chest. Slowly her shivering began to subside. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, her head lolled to the side, and her body relaxed into his as her breathing became deep and even.

.o0o.

It had been a terrible thing to say... She knew it wasn't true, and she hadn't meant it, not really. But she was sore, scared, and cold... And on top of all that, she was still suffering from a mild case of shock.

The weight of it all was just too much. Having him yell at her about how dire their situation was,_ as though she hadn't figured it out already_, had simply been the last straw. So she'd struck back at him the best way she knew how...

But she also knew that by doing so, she had, in a way, lived up to his implication that she was just some naive civilian... That she _hadn't_ been there, just outside Lior when scar wiped it, and the soldiers occupying it, from the map... Or in central when the outworlders had attacked...

Like some child throwing a fit, she'd let fly the words she knew instinctively would hurt him the most. They had flowed from her with near hysterical fervor, and felled their target as effectively as a knife.

He'd backpedaled... of course he had, who wouldn't? She wielded the one weapon against which he had no defense... His own guilt for sins past. Even an average man, with garden variety sins would run from that, and he was no ordinary man, nor were his transgressions run of the mill...

But as he placed his hand gently on her shoulder, and tried to allay the fear he thought _he'd_ created in her. His reaction reminded her of something she'd realized years ago, and it made her regret her cutting words. Despite his mistakes, despite his inadequacies... He truly was a good man.

So she relented, and a moment later found herself in a position she never would have dreamed of being in. Sitting huddled, in a most intimate embrace with Roy Mustang, was unnerving to say the least.

Each time he exhaled, it rustled through her hair, raising goosebumps on her neck and arms. But as her body began to regain it's warmth, exhaustion began to outstrip her nervousness and she gradually relaxed back against his chest.

She noted in that misty half state between wakefulness and sleep, how utterly surreal this day had been. Then as she drifted off, her last conscious thought was to wonder if she had not, in fact, gone insane, and drifted unknowingly into some manic delusion...

.o0o.

Leaning his head against the wall, he looked off into the starry distance. Watching the hypnotic flash of explosions reflected in the clouds on the horizon, he wondered again how things could have gone so horribly wrong. It wasn't a scenario that had even crossed his mind when he'd decided to do this a few months ago.

The image of her in a field of standing stones, flashed behind his eyes. He'd started out in this with the best of intentions... But no one knew better than he, that the road to hell was paved with those...

He'd been spiraling... Out of control... Into oblivion... pick your cliche... it had begun slowly with the news of Maes' death, and continued on at that pace until the loss of Ed. Picking up a bit of speed, He'd resigned his post, reenlisting as a ordinary soldier.

He would have been happy to serve out the rest of his career, the rest of his _life_, circling the drain in that tiny isolated northern shack of a border post... Nothing but him, the wood stove, and the gun he had no desire to use on anyone but himself...

But it was not to be. The 'Outworlders' had come, and somehow he'd managed to appear the hero, despite failing not only to get Ed back, but also losing Al in the process. He'd felt the increasing momentum, the almost palpable force of a tightening turn as he'd related their final words to Winry... Witnessing her grief, anger and disbelief, at this new loss. It had been like breaking the news to Gracia all over again.

Despite his strongest assurances to the contrary, the new government was convinced another outworld attack was immanent. They had honorarily restored some semblance his former title to him, and given him back his staff. His duties, however, amounted to little more than that of an adviser. He felt no drive or ambition for it, and it gave him little satisfaction... The work was redundant, as was he.

He tried to hold out for Maes' sake, but found himself having to fight harder and harder to curb his own self destructive cravings for liquor, not to mention darker things.

One by one, the better angels of his nature deserted him, slipping away into the darkness, and leaving only his demons for company... He was spinning deeper into the maelstrom, and longed to return to the north, to disappear forever... But it was in vain, it was all in vain...

So he plodded along directionless. Just going through the motions as he waited for oblivion to come, and release him from his torments. It was not until his annual, self flagellating visit to Risembul, that he'd felt the beginnings of a change in the current...

He'd gone, as he had done every year since he returned from Ishbal, to visit their graves... It was shortly after dawn, and the sun had not yet begun to burn away the mist, when he passed by the automail shop. He'd been surprised to find the sign gone, and the building empty.

Unsure what else to do, he'd continued on to the graveyard, and found the reason. There, beside their carefully tended graves, was a fresh stone that bore the words_ 'Beloved Grandmother. _She had died late that spring.

_ She should have called... I could have helped... somehow... _

Later that day, he had made a few subtle inquiries in town, but no one seemed to know where she'd gone... Only that she had closed up the shop, and left town shortly after the funeral. Empty handed, he had boarded the train back to central.

Staring blankly out into the intervening miles, he'd come to the realization that if she'd wanted his help, she _would_ have called. Instead it seemed, all she really wanted was to be left alone... And with the exception of a single, subtle, inquiry to Sheska, he'd honored that perception, and left her be... Though, in quiet moments, despite his best intentions, he often found his mind wandering to thoughts of her, and if she was doing alright where ever it was she'd gone...

The answer would come a little over a year later, in the form of a chance meeting. For reasons he could no longer recall, he'd gone to see Maes... Almost as much so in death, as it had in life, talking to his friend relaxed him, and helped him to refocus. He'd been so lost in thought as he walked toward the grave, that he hadn't noticed someone else was already there, until he was nearly on top of them.

Abruptly halting on the narrow stone path that wound through the cemetery, he waited, not wanting to disturb her. As it was he felt like an intruder just being this close. Instead, he stood quietly, looking away into the distance.

So intent was he not to disturb her, that until she spoke, he didn't notice she was approaching him.

"Colonel?"

He was startled, and though he'd tried to hide the reaction on his face, he must only have succeeded in looking confused, because she continued.

"It's me, Winry..." She gave a little sad smile.

As though he could ever forget who she was...

"Miss Rockbell" His voice flat, as he met her eyes for a moment, then dropped them to the ground.

He'd known it was her the moment he'd seen her.

"My condolences on the death of your grandmother..."

"H-how did you know?"

Her voice was low and dry, and carried on the wind like the last leaf of fall.

"Someone mentioned it" He lied, not wanting her to know that he visited the graves of her family "If there is anything you need, anything I can do, please don't hesitate to ask"

The question was on her lips, but it seemed to take the entire force of her will just to give it voice.

"H-has there-"

She licked her lips and tried again

"Has there been any word from-"

biting her lip she looked down now, unable to finish, unable to speak their names... But she didn't have to, he'd known what she was asking before the first word left her lips.

"No,... I'm sorry, there hasn't" He said softly.

A single tear escaped, and made it's way down her cheek, but she hastily brushed it away.

Truly looking at her for the first time, he was taken aback by what he saw... It almost seemed she herself was a ghost, freshly called up from one of the graves that surrounded them. Her eyes were dark ringed and hollow, and she had grown so thin he found himself mildly astonished that the rays of the midday sun did not pass right through her...

_ She's dying. _

"I have to go," she said suddenly, breaking the silence that had stretched out between them during his observation of her.

Suppressed tears lent a huskiness to her voice, as she tried to swallow them back.

"I'll be late getting back to work."

Quickly turning away from him, she hurried back down the path toward the gate. For a moment, it almost seemed she was fighting not to break into a run, as he watched her go...

It had been then, standing in the midsummer sun, staring at that distant gate long after she'd disappeared through it, that this idiotic notion had set upon him... He knew his life wasn't worth much in the grand scheme of things, but at the time he'd wondered, if it just might not be worth enough to buy two tickets home. They were the only family she had left... Besides, he'd mused, it wasn't like he was trying to bring back the dead...

Now, as the chill wind whipped his hair, he wondered if this might yet turn out to be another one of his mistakes that was marked by a tombstone...

.o0o.

_ He ran across a floor marked in glowing blue-white lines as it disintegrated beneath him. He had to get to her, knock her out of the circle before it was too late. W**hat the hell is she doing here?** He wasn't going to make it in time, he realized as the blocks beneath his feet fell away. Reaching out to grab something anything to catch himself, he plummeted into the darkness... Then he caught sight of her... she was falling too. _

.o0o._  
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He started awake, silently cursing himself.

_Some soldier you are. _

He must have dozed off, and from the looks of it, he'd been asleep for quite some time. The sun had risen, and was just beginning to peak over the remaining walls of the burned out ruin.

_At least it's warmer now_.

Then he heard it... The quiet scrape of slow deliberate footsteps on the debris strewn floor.

S_hit! _

Someone was slowly and methodically searching the ruin. Quietly and carefully, he extricated himself from behind her. She barely stirred. Perhaps it was better that way, he thought, as he leaned her back against the wall. She slouched slightly to the side and pulled the jacket up over her head, then she was still again.

Satisfied that she was still asleep, he turned, and as quietly as possible made his way along the the pile of rubble that had served as something of a windbreak during the night, then crouched at the entrance of their makeshift shelter.

Whoever it was, was getting closer. Mostly out of habit, he brought his thumb and forefinger together, before remembering that things just didn't work that way here.

He flattened him self against the debris, as the blue steal barrel of a gun came into view. He allowed the intruder one more step before he pounced, sweeping the gun's barrel to the side with the back of one hand as he buried the other in the man's stomach. Upon hearing the telltale whoosh of air that indicated he'd not be calling out to his friends, if he had any... Mustang put all the strength he could muster into a final shot to the side of man's head. He prayed it would leave the man unconscious, and thankfully, he was not disappointed.

Catching the man as he slumped, he'd hauled him into the relative seclusion of their alcove. He was trying to untangle the man from his gun when he heard the unmistakable click of a weapon being armed. It was accompanied by a gruff, but deadly calm, male voice.

"I wouldn't if I were you."

_Dammit._

He slowly raised his hands.

"Stand and face me."

Complying, he found himself face to face with a stocky man who bore a vague resemblance to Breda, and was dressed similarly to the man at his feet. His brown hair was fairly short, and the gun trained at his chest was twin to the unconscious man's.

_ Double damn!_

The patch on his chest said Carter, and if the ones on his shoulder meant the same thing they did back home, then this man was a Sargent. Pounding footsteps accompanied by several shouts of 'Sarge' confirmed his theory, and heralded the arrival of the rest of his squad. Seconds later, five more men came around the berm of fallen bricks, all with guns at the ready.

"Bailey!" one shouted in distress, as the man sprawled at his feet came into view.

_I've REALLY stuck my foot in it now_, he thought cursing his luck.

"He ain't dead," The man called Carter said to the one who had shouted, but his eyes never wavered from their target "Just unconscious."

It was clear by the way the other men looked to him, that the calm faced man called Carter was their leader.

"What happened?" Said another concerned face in the crowd

"He wasn't watching where he was going... Enough dillydallying, You,..." Carter jerked the gun in his direction "Back away from him. _Slowly._"

Mustang complied, taking three slow steps backward.

"That's far enough. Del, Hicks, go get Bailey" The men he had indicated surged forward to retrieve there fallen comrade.

Unfortunately, Winry, whom he had completely forgotten about until now, chose that very moment to wake up. Panic flashed through him, as Del and Hicks wheeled around, bringing their guns to bare on the source of the noise.

"STOP!" He shouted, holding out his hands."She isn't armed"

He darted in front of her, it was the only thing he could think of... For a moment they froze, unsure whether to fire or not. Then Carter was screaming at them to hold their fire.

"Winry," he yelled desperately, not taking his eyes off the numerous weapons now pointed at them both. "Winry! Show them your hands! Show them you're not armed!"

The others were shouting as well. Briefly it crossed his mind, that this was one wake-up call she was unlikely ever to forget. If she lived through it, that was... Then Carters voice was cutting through the pandemonium.

"EVERYBODY, _**SHUT UP**_!"

After they had quieted, he continued

"YOU,"

Carter jerked the gun in Roy's direction

"Over there, face the wall, keep your hands up,"

As he turned to move over to the wall, he shot her what he hoped was a reassuring look, and mouthed 'It'll be OK', though he wasn't entirely sure it would... For now, they had no choice but to do as they were told.

"And You," He said after a moment, clearly indicating Winry "Kick that jacket over here... Good, now turn and face the wall, keep your hands up. Del, hand off your weapons and search him. Hicks, hand off your weapons and check her"

"Thanks sarge!" the tone of Hicks' voice made him tense, as Winry whimpered, but before he could protest, Carter piped up.

"HEY, don't get any ideas! You get fresh with her, and I'll cut'em off my self, ya hear. We Ain't no fuckin' krauts!"

The indignation in his voice so apparent, that Hicks could do little more than yelp out a defeated 'Yes sir' then someone, presumably Del, was patting him down and checking his pockets.

"She's all clear, Sarge" Hicks said quickly.

"Nothing but a watch on Him." Said Del, having found nothing

"Good"

Roy heard the crunch of rapidly approaching foot steps, then a firm hand on his shoulder spun him. Briefly he was nose to nose with a red faced Carter, before Carter's fist smashed into his jaw, dropping him to the ground. Though the blow had made his head spin, Mustang would later come to the startling realization that Carter had actually pulled his punch.

"_Stupid __**sonuvabitch!**_" He huffed through gritted teeth "Were you trying to get yourself killed?"

The Sargent, who had remained calm, cool, and collected through everything that had come before, was now glaring down at him with blazing fury in his eyes. In the future, experts would determine that his reaction stemmed from a primal instinct linked to an excess of adrenalin in the blood, lacking proper outlet... But in the here and now, the Sargent simply thought of it as 'blowing off steam'... and in light of the events leading up to this one, Mustang supposed that he'd actually gotten off quite lightly.

"If you ever pull a damn fool stunt like that again, I'll kill you... Here," Carter said tossing his now searched jacket at him. "Go sit by your lady friend."

He jabbed a finger in Winry's direction, as the serenity slowly returned to his face.

Rubbing his sore jaw, Mustang picked himself up off the ground and dusted off, before doing as he had been instructed. Winry's eyes were big as saucers as he took a seat beside her and held out the jacket.

"Here, you must be cold"

Not hesitating, she shrugged into it. Gratefully she pulled her knees up underneath and hugged them, but she still looked pretty shaken up when she looked back at him.

"It wasn't as bad as it looked"

He flashed her a weak smile, then winced bringing his hand to his jaw.

"It was better than I deserved" He said thoughtfully.

Carter was crouched over the still unconscious Bailey, speaking in hushed tones to the man tending him. Then with a nod he stood up.

"_Better than you deserved?_" Winry hissed indignantly, drawing his attention back to her. "That man sucker punched you!"

He sighed.

"Winry," he said, his voice quiet and serious. "After what I did to his squad mate, I count my self lucky to still be breathing,"

He glanced back to the Sargent.

"He would have been well within his rights to shoot me, but he didn't... I know you're frightened, but please trust me when I tell you this... We're in good hands, this could have been much worse..."

It was at about that moment a spray of gunfire rang out, and with a howl, Carter went down in a heap...

.o0o.

**A/N:** _Well that's it for this first installment... Please r&r. The next chapter is mostly completed but still needs a final proof and polish. I will try to have that out to you about this time next month. If you have any questions about the story, please feel free to place them in your review or pm me. I will address them as best I can, as soon as I can..._

_Thanks for reading, hope to see you again next month!_


	2. Chapter 2: Not So Helpless

_ First off a **note of warning**, not for content, but because I don't think it's fair to drop this kind of bomb at the end of the chapter.. _

_ Unlike these last two chapters, chapter 3 has been giving me fits, and is not complete. This, combined with the fact that September and October are a very busy time for me, is conspiring to put me behind. Fear not, I WILL get the next chapter out, it just probably won't be until some time in November. Thanks in advance for your patience, or your impatience, as the case may be...  
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_**The usual disclaimers apply...** I do not own any rights to FMA, or the characters contained therein..._

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

_**Chapter 2  
>Not So Helpless<strong>_

For a split second, all eyes turned to their fallen Sargent. Then, as another spray of bullets hammered the wall behind them, the squad sprung into action. Their newly acquired captives quickly forgotten in the face of a much greater threat.

Four of them took cover behind the berm, and returned fire. Meanwhile, the man who had been tending to Bailey, threw his body over him during the initial bursts, then began dragging him into the alcove, as his squad mates threw down cover fire. Mustang didn't have it in him, to just sit idly by while these strangers protected them.

"Stay here!" He yelled to Winry, then he was quickly picking his way along the wall, careful to keep his head down.

The man who's chest said Harper, looked startled to say the least, when Mustang appeared beside him. But he did not argue when Roy grabbed a hold of Bailey's shirt and helped him to drag the unconscious man behind the berm.

"Take him over by her," He said, in a tone that brooked no argument. "I'll go get Carter."

Then he was scrambling out toward the fallen Sargent, who'd now rolled over and was cussing a blue streak that would make the devil blush, as he returned fire one handed. His other hand, Mustang observed, was occupied pressing into the small but spreading red stain on his thigh.

"Come on" He yelled, grabbing two fistfuls of shirt near the shoulders, and pulling him into the shelter. Harper, stooping, ran to help pull the Sargent over next to Bailey, then began to tend to his leg. Shoving Carters hand aside, Harper tore the pant leg open to reveal the wound.

"Sarge!" Yelled one of the men, as he crouched down to reload.

"I ain't dead yet, Hanson, just pissed off... Goddamn, this day sure went to hell in a hurry! What 'ave we got?"

"There looks to be three or four o' them layin' down fire near the entry, beyond that I can't be sure! Orders?"

"Dammit, Dammit, DAMMIT! Of all the fucking luck. Just keep trying to pick 'em off, but conserve your ammo if you can, even if we call, we're not likely to see reinforcements anytime soon. Ain't much else we can do, pinned down like we- Ow! Dammit Harper, what the hell are you doing?"

As the Sargent's attention had suddenly been drawn to the Corporal now inspecting his wound with a critical eye, Hanson returned to the fray, relaying Carters instructions.

Gently, Harper continued prodding here and there, trying to ascertain the extent of the damage, until finally, he was satisfied.

Quietly, he said "it's through and through, and shallow so the bleeding's not _too_ bad, I think you got lucky..."

"Sure as hell don't feel lucky, I feel like someone shoved a poker through my leg..."

Harper smiled dryly at this, as he pulled out a few small waxed paper wrapped packages from the pack on his belt.

"I'll just get it cleaned up a little, then I can bandage it."

Still not content to sit quietly by, Mustang had renewed his efforts to disentangle Bailey from his gun, while Harper looked over Carter's wound. Conceding the battle to pull the strap over his head after a few seconds, he opted instead for the expediency of cutting it free.

He'd pulled out Bailey's knife with the intention of doing just that, when his antics finally drew Harper's attention away from the sargent.

"Hey, what the hell do you think your doing?" Harper cried reaching for his own weapon.

"Easy Corporal," Carter said loudly, putting a hand on Harper's arm to stay him.

Giving Mustang an appraising glance, he continued.

"Right now, we can use all the help we can get..."

As he used Bailey's knife to sever the strap, then returned it to it's sheath, Mustang gave a short harsh laugh

"The joke's on you, Sargent..." he replied humorlessly "I'll do my best, but I haven't fired a gun in years."

Then he wrenched the remainder of the strap out from under Bailey's body. As he gazed at his newly acquired weapon, he saw that it was unlike any he'd ever seen or used before, and came to the sudden embarrassing realization that he had no clue how it even worked...

Sheepishly he looked to Harper and asked

"How do I make this ready to fire?"

To the surprise of all three men, it wasn't Harper, or Carter, but Winry who answered, by taking the gun from his hands. Lifting the hatch on the top she glanced in a second, ejected the magazine from the gun, then slipped her finger through the slot and drew back the bolt. Mustang felt his heart pause mid beat as a corroded round ejected onto the ground in front of him... So Bailey had gotten a shot off after all, he hadn't realized how lucky he'd truly been... Winry noticed the state of the round as well and gave a somewhat worried glance to the magazine then shrugged, reinserted it with a click, and handed him back the gun, looking satisfied.

"There, keep the flap up, and if it jams like that again, pull the bolt back the way I just did, and that should clear it, any questions?"

Dumbfounded, he stared at her as he took it back, from the corner of his eye he could see that the other two were equally shocked and impressed. Her cheeks colored.

"Just what do you think I've been doing for the last few months?" She cried indignantly "filing my nails?"

She glared hotly at him, as though she'd forgotten completely that they were in the middle of a firefight. With difficulty, he resisted the urge to grin. Instead, he turned with out another word, and scrambled up the berm. Thinking as he did, that when she had prepared this weapon for him, she'd been the spitting image of Riza.

_Not so helpless after all..._

Not long after he'd climbed the berm, he finally got the hang of his strange new weapon. He was relieved to find, that his aim hadn't suffered too badly for his long hiatus from the use of fire arms. About five minutes after that, a slightly shaky, but now fully conscious Bailey appeared, carrying Carter's gun. Understandably he kept his distance, but relaxed visibly when Harper climbed up shortly there after, and settled into the space between them.

Though his face bore a serious look, it was hard to believe Harper was even old enough to join up. It was a fact Mustang might have barbed him about, had he himself not been the subject of many similar jibes, before he had achieved a rank high enough to free him of such insults.

After a few minutes, he noticed that Harper's holster was empty. When he inquired about the missing sidearm, Harper said.

"Gave it to your lady friend"

Then after lobbing a few shots in the general direction of the enemy, he ducked back down below the crest of the berm and continued.

"You know, I had to insist that she take it? Claimed she'd never used a gun before..."

An incredulous look crossed his face

"After what she did with that 'M3', I find that very hard to believe"

Mustang grimaced

"I don't"

Harper's eyes narrowed

"Look Buddy, I may look young, but I wasn't born yesterday. The things she did with Bailey's 'grease gun' were so textbook, I doubt my instructor back in basic could'a done better. Do you really expect me to believe she's never used so much as a pistol?"

A spray of bullets impacting the far side of the berm caused them both to flinch, before Mustang replied

"No, I'm simply telling you that with what I know of her history, it would not surprise me in the least, if she hadn't."

Harper fixed him with a disbelieving glare

"OK, fine, say I humor you, how do you explain what she did?" his voice dripping in sarcasm.

"Oh, Winry is _VERY_ mechanically Inclined... Just because she's never fired one before, doesn't mean she's never taken one apart. In fact I doubt she could resist reducing it to its base components, if the opportunity presented itself..." he replied grinning smugly.

"What? Opportunity? Base components? she _wouldn't_..._would she_?"

They looked back to see that she had, indeed, taken advantage of the opportunity. Parts were spread across the jacket in her lap, and she was closely examining each piece. A childlike smile lit her face.

The Sargent was next to her, propped up against the wall now. He was smiling as well and seemed to be explaining the function of each part. Though much to his amusement, Mustang observed, Carter's own pistol had been kept well out of her reach. Harper blanched.

"I gave that to her so she could defend herself, not take it apart!"

Mustang couldn't help but laugh

"Don't look so worried," Mustang said, smiling as he turned and squeezed off a couple of rounds at the entry. "I'm sure she'll have it all back together by the time we're done"

They passed a few minutes in silence, broken only by gunfire, then finally curiosity got the better of Harper.

"What History?"

His concentration elsewhere, Mustang had almost missed the question addressed to him.

"Huh?" he replied eloquently.

"You said, with what you knew of her history, you weren't surprised... What history?"

A look of pain flitted over his face.

"Let's just say, as a machine to be studied, she's OK with them, but as a tool of war..., not so much."

"Why, she a pacifist or something?" He asked not looking up as he peeked over the berm.

"No"

At the force of Mustang's reply, Harper realized he'd hit a nerve, so he decided to change the subject.

"Doesn't really matter, I'm just glad she's here. Do you have any idea how hard it would've been, to convince the Sargent to stay down there and keep still, if she hadn't been?"

Mustang nodded mutely. He knew Carter's type well...

.o0o.

Men were nothing more than a bunch of overgrown peacocks... That was Winry's longstanding impression of the species in general. All that puffing and strutting and posturing, it seemed to be an absolute requirement for their continued survival... Even if it proved to be an almost constant threat to hers.

This morning's awakening had been a rude one to say the least. She had filtered into consciousness slowly, as the somewhat muffled unfamiliar voices, that had, at first, incorporated themselves into her dreams, suddenly became incongruous shouts.

She had pulled down what she thought to be her blanket, only to find half a dozen gun barrels pointed at her. Meanwhile, none other than Colonel Roy Mustang screamed for her to put her hands up, while he flapped his around like he was about to take flight. Had the experience not been so terrifying, she might have laughed at the outlandish display.

Quite disoriented, and still unsure this wasn't part of some bizarre dream, she'd staggered quickly to her feet, amongst a cacophony of shouts. Not covers, but a jacket, _his _jacket she now recalled, fell to the ground as she did, pooling at her feet. One of the strange men told her to kick it, and she complied. Then he told her to face the wall, to which she also complied. After all, they were the one's with the guns...

Apparently, despite a frigid night spent without a fire, they had still managed to draw attention to themselves. The man in charge ordered another of his men to 'check' her. This other man's response had frightened her so badly, that for the first time she had truly considered bolting. Though, where she would possibly have gone to escape them, she couldn't begin to imagine... Fortunately, it proved to be unnecessary, but the feel of his hands on her, however briefly, had still been unnerving to say the least. She'd been grateful this happened to be one day she didn't have a wrench, or some other device, tucked into one of her pockets, as was so often the case.

While she'd now been fairly certain this was not a dream, the situation had remained surreal... In short order she was searched, cleared, and told to take a seat. From her vantage, she'd seen the leader of the group slug Mustang, then scream at him before sending him to sit next to her. Then just when she thought the whole thing couldn't get any stranger, mustang himself had tried to convince her that said leader was actually a 'good guy', and immediately thereafter watched said leader get shot in the leg.

She abhorred violence, but while seeing people intentionally hurt by others, sometimes had the power to make her physically ill... That particular act of violence had caused the other men's guns to point somewhere other than her... Which she had to admit left her feeling much relieved.

And despite the fact that she hadn't managed to express this opinion _before_ the shooting started, she had fully intended to tell mustang, she thought he'd gone crazy... To be honest though, she wasn't entirely sure she hadn't gone right along with him...

By the time the battle ended, Winry'd found herself grudgingly admitting that, perhaps, Mustang had been right about these men after all... After getting off to a rough start, mustang had managed to convince them he wasn't a threat, by first helping to rescue the leader (whose name turned out to be Carter) and another man (named Bailey), then offering to help out in the fight. They'd trusted him enough to hand over a gun that, as it turned out she knew more about than he did. So after a quick tutorial, and the mildest touch of sarcasm from her, he'd gone to join the fight, leaving her in the dubious company of Carter, the leader, Harper, the medic, and Bailey, the unconscious...

It had been an awkward silence, to say the least, that filled the time between mustang's departure and Bailey's return to consciousness. But as he too departed to join the fight, there'd been an odd shift in the power dynamic.

At some point she'd stopped being just some stranger in hostile territory and become just another 'defenseless' women in a war zone, and Harper had gone from suspicious to protective. Apparently, chivalry wasn't dead for this one... However misguided it might be.

He'd insisted she take his pistol, despite her sincere, and repeated assertions, that she did not know how to use it. Eventually she'd grudgingly accepted it, simply because she'd come to the conclusion that he was not going to take no for an answer, but she also believed he had an ulterior motive for doing so. So she waited until he'd crawled up the berm, then asked Carter to safety it.

Despite how profoundly stupid she found this whole situation, she did somewhat understand Harper's motive... Here lay his commanding officer. Injured, but still raring to join the fight, and had he chosen to, Harper could have done nothing to stop him. So he'd decided to play dirty, by playing on Carter's own protective instincts to keep him out of the fight... Apparently, Harper wasn't the only one, for whom, chivalry was not deceased.

Once Carter'd removed the clip, and ejected the remaining round from the chamber, she'd taken it back from him. It was not dissimilar to the ones a certain lieutenant of her acquaintance carried. And, as she had seen Riza dismantle her's for cleaning, Winry was somewhat familiar with their inner workings.

Curious to see if there were any key differences between the two seemingly identical models _and_ as a way of keeping carter occupied, she'd begun to dismantle it. She laid the pieces out, one by one, atop mustang's jacket, which she'd spread across her lap, as the sun began to warm her. While she probably knew more about the mechanics than he did, she kept Carter distracted, by way of allowing him to 'teach' her about them.

He'd surreptitiously removed his own pistol from it's holster, and placed it well out of her reach, on his far side. It clearly indicated, that his trust of her went only so far... And she'd noticed that he'd done it, even though he made it out to be just something he did to get comfortable, whilst settling in for a wait.

He was pleasant enough, respectful, and surprisingly soft spoken, for someone so blustery at first meeting (well, as soft spoken as anyone could be, in the middle of a gun battle). What most began to endear him to her, was the complete lack of condescension in his tone... He made her feel the act of moving his pistol, was nothing more than an act of pure practicality, and one she could find no fault in.

Her impression of Harper was a bit different. It seemed he thought her weak, or at least believed the impression of her weakness could be used to his own advantage. The only thing that had kept her from tearing into him, was the fact that he'd had good cause for using her this way. Carter's wound had needed time to clot. Something it would not have had with him scrabbling back and forth across that rocky berm. It likely would have torn, and been well on it's way to a first class infection due to the dust and rock, by the time he was done... And that was only if it's added deficiencies to his speed and agility, didn't get him shot again, this time perhaps fatally.

Still there had been a lesson to be taught here. Because, it was not being used that bothered her, so much as being underestimated. And though she only glimpsed it from the corner of her eye, the look of horror cast upon her by Harper, when he saw the state of his pistol, more than contented her, and showed that she had gotten her point across.

The mischievous glint of mustang's eye in response to it, however, was another story entirely. Apparently Mustang at least, had been expecting this turn of events... And the thought that he might know her well enough to predict her actions like that, left her feeling vaguely unsettled. Perhaps Harper wasn't the only one doing the underestimating...

.o0o.

The battle went on for some time. Each side lobbing fire from equally protected positions, until finally, the opposition's guns fell silent. After a few minutes, and a few more unanswered shots, Hanson, under heavy cover, went to investigate. He returned to report three dead enemy soldiers laying near the entrance, and no sign of any others.

At the news, Carter declared it was time to get out while the getting was good. Not needing any further incentive, they beat a hasty retreat, Harper supporting Carter from one side, as Hanson supported him from the other.

It wasn't until they were leaving, that Mustang truly began to grasp the size of the place. It seemed to have been some kind of fortress, and as they emerged from the ruin, he found that the topography of the location only seemed to reinforce that idea. It stood on a well wooded bluff, overlooking a wide valley, and reminded him vaguely of Briggs, high in the mountains of their world.

Slowly, they made their way down a narrow, winding road. It proved to be the only access to the bombed out wreck they'd left behind. They stayed close to the tree line as they went, in case they ran across any more opposition, but thankfully the trip down was uneventful.

Around midday, they decided they were far enough from the ruins, that it was probably safe to stop for a rest. They were all seated in the grass a little way off the road.

On Carter's orders, the men, some grudgingly, shared their rations with the two newcomers. As neither of them had eaten since the previous day, they gratefully excepted everything that was offered. This amounted to; a hand full of hard rectangular crackers; a small can of nearly inedible cheese; a can of very fatty, and overly seasoned meat 'product'; a few individually wrapped caramels; and something that looked like a thick chocolate bar, but more closely resembled an asphalt shingle in both texture, and flavor. The men had offered Mustang several of them, calling them d-rations, but after his first attempted bite, Mustang had politely refused any further donations of that variety.

As they ate, Mustang noticed that the soldiers eyes would dart swiftly away, whenever he looked in their direction. He noticed, though, that Bailey, who sat alone a short distance away, was not nearly as shy about the dark looks he shot in the stranger's direction.

He looked over at Carter, who had quickly wolfed down his rations, before grudgingly allowing Harper to reexamine his wound.

"Will you quit being such a mother hen, I'm fine!"

Harper sighed loudly. Then, looking for all the world like a martyred saint, he muttered.

"Fine, get gangrene. See if I care! I'm just a medic, what the hell do I know?"

Carter grinned widely at the younger man's sarcasm.

"Oh come off it, Harper, you know you're just trying to get rid of me, so you can be in charge"

He chided laughingly.

"Oh yeah, that's been my secret ambition from the start... That you might die with your leg rotting off is just a fringe benefit!" Harper returned.

Now it was Carter's turn to sigh.

"Your concern is dually noted. If we get near an aid station, or hospital, I'll have it looked at. But I feel fine, really." He said, his voice taking on a conciliatory tone.

Harper shook his head for a moment, then finally relented.

"You're a jackass, you know that?"

Carter grinned again.

"That's Sargent jackass to you!" Carter said to his retreating back, as Harper went to retrieve his own rations. A most unorthodox single finger salute, was Harper's only reply.

Mustang watched as Carter settled back against the rock behind him, taking a drink from his canteen. He was clearly a little unorthodox him self, but he had a good rapport with his men, and that was definitely something to be respected.

Looking around again, he noticed that one of them had gotten bold enough to try and flirt with Winry. It seemed, though, that her interest was not so much in him, as it was with the strange device he carried on his back.

She wasn't receiving nearly as many suspicious looks as he, but that was to be expected. She was a young, pretty female, dressed in civilian clothing. He, on the other hand, was a male in a strange military uniform. In hindsight, he wished he'd had the forethought to wear, or at least attempt to bring along, civilian clothes, but nothing about this had gone as it was planned.

Deciding to break his silence, he glanced back at the reclining Sargent.

"Sargent, what made you decide to trust me?" Mustang asked, in a conversational tone

But before Carter could respond, Bailey, having heard his question, shot to his feet, his face turning beet red.

"Trust!" He exclaimed angrily. "You got alotta nerve, talking about trust, after the way you blindsided me!"

Mustang wasn't particularly shocked by this outburst, especially after the looks he'd been receiving, but he realized that an apology was probably in order, if he wished to keep the peace. So he abandoned his attempt at conversation with Carter, in hopes of appeasing Bailey.

"I'm sorry about that, really I am. I just didn't see any other choice at the time, but, you may trust me when I tell you that your Sargent evened the score," he said rubbing his still sore jaw "_and then some"_

But Bailey rebuffed his attempt to make peace, and advanced on him.

"I don't give a shit what he did, I still don't trust you!"

He glowered down at Mustang, who remained seated. He knew it left him open to attack, but he also knew it would be even more dangerous to in any way appear the aggressor, among this group of men he barely knew.

"That's enough Bailey." Carter said sitting up, his face now deadly serious.

"Well, I don't!" Bailey declared angrily, turning to address the Sargent.

"And that's why you're not running this outfit! I said, that's enough!" Carter barked, his tone unyielding.

Grudgingly, Bailey turned away from Mustang. Indignant, he returned to his seat on the rock, then jammed a cigarette into his mouth and lit it, as he glared into the distance.

"Look Bailey, If he wanted you dead, he had ample time. I never even heard him take you down. He could have easily snapped your neck, or slit your throat before I found him, but he didn't... And the treatment he got from us when we caught him, was hardly incentive for him to stick his neck out. But he didn't hesitate for a second to help drag your sorry ass, _and mine,_ out of the cross fire... That answer your question, Mustang?" Carter said turning to look at him.

Mustang nodded mutely, the rest of the group had gone silent also.

"You certainly don't act like an enemy, and your English is good enough, but that uniform isn't like any I've ever seen before, and I haven't been able to place your accent... Just where did you two come from?"

He had been both expecting, and dreading this question... The only thing Mustang knew about this world, was that he didn't know nearly enough about it to lie... He decided to tell the truth but keep it vague, and hope they would draw their own conclusions.

"Amestris"

To his immense relief, he received a blank look from Carter, so he continued.

"You've probably never heard of it... For all intents and purposes, it doesn't exist anymore..."

Carter nodded hesitantly.

"Probably just another one of the postage stamp republics that got '_absorbed_' by the axis" Piped up one of the other men.

Mustang really didn't understand what he was talking about, but nodded anyway. So far, they seemed to be buying it...

"The shadow of the bars on your jacket, seem to indicate you were an officer,... a Colonel?"

He looked down at the lapel of his jacket and for the first time noticed an area that had faded less than the fabric around it. The stars must not have been there long enough to leave their own mark, but that wasn't surprising, not really.

He'd never put the bars back on after his dubious reinstatement, it just didn't seem appropriate. So all that remained of them, was the visual representation of a dream lost, and a promise broken... He sighed.

"Well I'm not a member of the marching band, but no, I'm not a Colonel, I'm not anything anymore. I was decommissioned after the government fell..."

Carters curiosity looked piqued, along with that of the other men.

"I'm surprised they let you go. They've been pretty desperate for experienced officers."

Mustang studied his hands for a moment. Trying to come up with a way to explain what had happened without going into too much detail, and looking like a mad man. After all, he doubted even the people of his own world would believe it. He'd scarcely believed the full extent of it himself, until he'd seen it with his own eyes.

"Suffices to say, that the stand I took when the government fell, was looked upon poorly by the new regime"

"What'd you do?" Carter asked, clearly skeptical

At this Mustang had to smile, despite the loss, despite the broken promises, to himself and to Maes, he felt a distinct though weighty pride in his accomplishment.

"Plotted, and carried out a coup attempt against the tyrant responsible for the downfall."

Carter, though he looked thoughtful, said nothing, but another of the men who had become interested, piped up.

"Were you successful?"

Mustang gave another smile, this time sardonic

"Well I succeeded in killing him, but as to anything else? The differences that make any one government better than another, is usually just a matter of degrees. So I suppose that's up for debate..."

Now Carter gave a look of disgust though it didn't seem to be aimed at Mustang or anyone else for that matter.

"Politics, you can keep 'em! Collecting favors, and counting beans? It's for the birds."

His men had clearly heard this rant before, because they seemed to lose interest quickly, and instead, focused back on Mustang. One of the men, he thought his name was Hanson, asked...

"So that makes you what? Fugitives? ...refugees?"

Mustang liked the latter, being refugees would explain their complete lack of identification, extra clothes, and supplies...

"Yeah, I guess you could say we're refugees, we left with nothing but the clothes on our backs."

A short while later they had resumed walking. A few miles down the road, they came across an empty farm house that's abandonment was clearly both recent, and hasty. With little preamble, Carter announced that he had an idea. Then with out further explanation, dragged Mustang inside, while leaning heavily on Harper.

The rest, including Winry, were left out side to wait. A fact that had Mustang feeling more than a little uneasy. Briefly, he wondered if this was preamble to an impromptu interrogation, or even an execution... Had it had really been such a wise idea to trust Carter?

Once inside, his worries were allayed a bit, as Carter wasted no time beginning to root about in those things left behind by the previous occupants. He soon came up with a pair of brown wool pants, and an off white button down shirt.

"Here" He said, thrusting them into Mustangs arms. "They're not great, but they'll do. Give me your jacket."

Mustang looked at him in confusion, and was rewarded with an exasperated look.

"You said you're not military anymore, right?"

Mustang nodded silently.

"Well friend or foe, you're libel to get shot in that getup. So, you'd better hurry up and change." He said, as he opened his pocket knife. "I didn't find any cold weather gear,..." He continued, beginning to cut away and pocket the patches and decorations that indicated his allegiance. "And the color is still liable to make you an easy target, but that can't be helped."

Ten minutes later, Mustang and the others reemerged from the cottage, to join the group waiting outside. The clothing provided to him, had obviously once belonged to a much larger man. The shirt was large enough to do laps in, and there was room enough for three of him in the slacks. Thankfully Carter had also been able to turn up a belt, otherwise he would have been hard pressed to protect his dignity. Still he supposed it could have been worse... They were also leaving with several blankets pilfered from a cedar chest.

.o0o.

It had been an enormous relief to her, when Mustang reappeared from the cottage unharmed, in fresh, though poorly fitting clothes... Her new born trust for these men, gained during the morning's battle, and still tenuous at best, had been stretched to it's limits, when the ranking officer, along with his second in command, had ordered Mustang into the abandoned house.

The act had made her doubly nervous. Not only because she didn't know what was happening to him, but also because she herself had been left in the care of these strange men, with out the benefit of her only sure ally.

Beginning to feel a chill that stemmed more from those facts, than the weather, she tried to distract her self. Del, whom she'd spoken to a little during the midday meal, and seemed nice enough, had settled at the edge of the broad stone step, and begun to fiddle with the device he called a 'field radio'. She went to stand near him, as he performed some basic maintenance on the device. As she leaned against the door frame beside him, with her hands braced behind her, he cast a quick glance up at her, and gave an easy grin. She did her best to return it, at least partially, despite her fears.

"So what do you think they're doing in there?" she asked, as he returned to his task, trying desperately not to sound as worried as she really was.

"Beats me," He answered offhandedly. "Sometimes it's difficult to predict how the Sargent's mind works."

But as he glanced back up at her, it was clear he'd spied some trace of the fear she'd tried so hard to hide.

"Hold on now, I didn't mean it like that. Nothing's going to happen to him, _or_ you. There'd be no reason for it unless you tried to hurt one of us-"

"But, he _did_ hurt one of you." She reminded him quietly, looking down at her feet.

"You mean Bailey?" He asked laughingly, but the fearful nod she gave sobered him. "Come on, you heard what the Sargent said, didn't you?"

He was trying to sound encouraging, but she knew the expression she wore was still unsure.

"Look Sure, your friend cleaned Bailey's clock, but Bailey's also alive and well because of him, nothing hurt but his pride. Hell, the only time that man resisted, was when he thought you were in danger, and he only did it to protect you. The Sargent knows that, and believe me, he won't soon forget that your friend saved his life too. Carter's a fair man, and aside from that initial incident, which was more than made up for, you've done nothing to warrant harsh treatment. He'll be fine, you'll see."

The nod she gave this time, was just a tad more confident, but he still met it with a heartening smile, before returning, once more, to his task.

Watching him in his enterprise, did help to calm her a bit more. But, what helped even more, was that she now realized her current proximity to the door allowed her, just barely, to hear the voices coming from inside.

Though she couldn't tell what those voices were saying through the thick wood, she could make out the tone of them. They didn't seem to be, in any way stressed, or angry, so she allowed her self to relax just a bit.

She relaxed even more when he emerged, unscathed, bearing the jacket, newly stripped of it's ornamentation, and several blankets. Upon noticing the goosebumps rising on her arms, he hastily offered her one, which she even more hastily accepted, wrapping it around herself the moment it was proffered. Though the sun still shown through the high thin clouds, the wind had become quite chilly.

"Thanks" She said uneasily, as she pulled it snug about her shoulders.

He nodded, and then in another moment, the group was underway again. Side by side, they trudged along for some time. Then, apparently finding nerve enough to finally break the silence, he spoke.

"So, what _have_ you been doing for the last few months...?" He asked.

"Hmm?"

Startled by his unexpected attempt at conversation, she now realized, she'd said precious little to him since the previous night...

She hitched up the pilfered blanket, pulling it closer around her shoulders, as she looked over at him.

"Back there at the ruins,... when you fixed the gun..."

For a moment She drew a blank, then began to register the memory.

"Oh!" She said, smiling diminutively, until the rest of the memory filtered back "Oh..." she repeated more quietly, feeling slightly abashed as she recalled her outburst. "I-I... umm..."

"After your grandmother died, what happened to you,... where did you go?..." He inquired regarding her seriously.

"After granny..." She said pensively, letting the last word trail off.

She felt a telltale sting of tears from the corners of her eyes, at the reminder, but forced them down. It had been over a year since she passed, and she had more control of herself now. Though, she wondered how much he really knew about her actions following the death of her last living relative.

It hurt to think back on that time, and it must have shown in her face because it looked as though he might take back the question, but she found she didn't want him to. She hadn't spoken about that time to anyone, not even Sheska, so before he could retract or apologize, she went on.

"...After she died, I think I went a little crazy... There was nothing left for me in Risembul. No one save the ghosts... I needed a fresh start.

"Sheska had told me time and time again, during our visits, what an amazing place Central was to live. The fact is, I didn't really care where I went, as long as I went somewhere. So I packed up the tools and sold everything else...

"I used the money to open up a little shop in central... I knew it would be hard to get established, but I figured as automail mechanic to the one and only 'Full Metal', it wouldn't be too hard to develop a following..."

She sighed now, looking down at the ground before her as she walked.

"I was mistaken. I didn't take into account, just how much peacetime effects the market. There just wasn't room for a Podunk mechanic in Central, even Ed's, and his name doesn't carry the same weight it used to, since he's been missing all this time... One by one I sold my tools in an effort to keep the shop, but it still wasn't enough, so eventually I lost that too..."

"But how did you end up down below?"

At this she gave a sardonic smile, but still couldn't bring herself to look up at him, even though she could see him staring intensely at her, from the corner of her eye... Nervously, she brushed an errant strand of hair back from her face, in an attempt to distract him, and break his gaze. It didn't work, so seeing no other option, she continued.

"Well, back during the 'Outworlder' attack, Sheska showed me a tunnel that lead down into the lost city. When I went looking for it, it was still intact.

"I had no tools, no shop, no job, no money, no home... I was lucky it was still warm out side, or I probably would have died of exposure, but I was still in pretty dire straits. So I did the logical thing, and decided to move down there..."

"Logical? You could have gone to stay with Sheska!"

Shaking her head, she finally looked back up at him.

"Sheska? She can barely support her self, let alone me. And if she knew I lost everything, she would have felt horrible, since she suggested Central in the first place... Besides, have you _been _to her apartment?"

Looking off into the distance for a moment, she recalled the state of Sheska's apartment the last time she'd visited, and gave an overly dramatic shudder.

"No, it was better for everyone if-"

'If I just dealt with the problem my self' was what she'd intended to say, but he angrily cut her off.

"If what?- If you set up housekeeping in that broken down old tomb! Why didn't you call me, Winry! I would have helped you!" He said, looking genuinely upset.

It was the same look he'd worn the day he and his most trusted men, had intercepted Ed and Al in the mountain pass just outside Risembul. That day would live in her memory forever, because on it, so much had changed.

It had been on that day, that he had first admitted his roll in the deaths of her parents... There before Ed, and Al, and all of the rest of his men. Up until that point, she had childishly believed that most of them followed him out of ignorance to his terrible deeds...

He hadn't been able to face her then, but as he stood there, head half turned back to them, she hadn't seen the expected anger or embarrassment at being revealed. Only pain... And in the eyes of his men, there'd been no surprise, or outrage...

_ They already knew_. Her anger had swelled to it's greatest point then, driven by a juvenile sense of betrayal, that would have made Ed proud. But, one by one, the justifications for her anger had fallen like dominoes, under the glare of the base rationality she'd always prided herself on...

_ They knew,_ because he had told them. He had been forthright and honest, about what must have been one of the darkest chapters in his life.

They knew, and yet they still followed him faithfully, even up to, and including, the point of committing treason... And _she knew them._

These were neither the power hungry minions of the state, nor their mindless drones. These were good, smart, thinking people, and still they were willing to follow him, to the gallows if necessary, to accomplish his goals...

Upon realizing just how childish she had truly been, her anger began to die. By that evening it had been completely gone, replaced by the painful realization, that he really was a good man. So, when Ed had railed against him, for keeping the news of Maes' death from them, she had rebuked him for his own childishness, with the fervor of a sinner repented...

"I didn't want to bother you..." she said honestly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You had enough to worry about already, what with the attack, and the new government still being organized..."

But that wasn't the whole truth. In large part, she just hadn't wanted to see him again. It wasn't because of _that_, she'd gotten past that now... Simply put, it just hurt to much to see him... He reminded her of everything she'd lost, and that lingering pain was far more stubborn than her anger had ever been...

So she'd distanced her self from him, from everyone that was left... The number of times she'd spoken to him before the outworlder attack could be counted on the fingers of one hand, and the number of times she had spoken to him afterwords was even less.

In fact, though she'd lived in central for well over a year, the only time she had spoken to anyone from her life before, was the one chance encounter she'd had with Roy earlier this summer.

Unaware of her inner turmoil, he shot her a most disparaging look, but she continued holding her hands up to placate him.

"It wasn't ideal, but I needed a safe place to lay my head, and a roof to keep the rain off of it... It seemed like the perfect solution, I mean really who even knows its there?... Besides it wasn't going to be permanent. I was just staying there until I could save enough money to get back on my feet."

But that wasn't entirely true either... hough she could hardly admit it to her self, let alone anyone else, she'd had funds enough to leave for some time. She just couldn't bring herself to give up the last place she'd had any contact with the brothers...

It made her feel closer to them, and some irrational part of her, and not a small part either, believed that letting go of that place, would be the same as letting go of them. And she just couldn't bear that... Not yet anyway.

"How exactly were you going to do that from down there?" He demanded, breaking her from her thoughts.

"Well, after the attack from the other side, the military, as I'm sure you're aware, felt rather motivated to update their arsenal. That, among other things, meant replacing most of the weapons in it... So, while the automail market might have pretty much gone bust, weapons manufacturing was in full swing..."

"Is that why you knew how to fix Bailey's rifle, you were designing guns!"

"No! No, nothing like that. I just found a job assembling them... And since I've always been mechanically inclined, it wasn't all that hard to adjust for the differences between his gun, and the ones I was putting together back home. They're actually rather similar." She offered with a weak smile, relieved to have finally lighted on a more comfortable topic.

.o0o.

As she went on about her new line of work, Mustang suddenly became aware of an increased interest in subject matter of their conversation. It worried him, but Winry continued on, oblivious to the extra attention now being paid her.

"I never would have taken credit for designing those guns anyway, they were fatally flawed..."

As she looked up at him, he tried to flash her a warning glance, but it was too late. Bailey, now walking very close behind them, piped up.

"Is that so?" He said a little too loudly, a snide edge coloring his voice.

"Yes" She answered honestly, still not comprehending the danger.

"And what makes you say that?" He said patronizingly.

His volume remained unnaturally high, with the intent clearly being, to draw the attention of the men around them, to their formerly private conversation... And it was working. Several of the men had dropped back to witness the spectacle.

But Winry, unaware of how thin the ice was getting, continued to answer his baiting questions fully, and honestly...

"Well the firing pin is poorly manufactured, so it's likely to wear out too quickly. And the casing ejection mechanism allows the heated gas of firing to get into the spring assembly, which will eventually weaken it, and cause the whole thing to jam."

"Oh, is that all"

"Isn't that enough? I mean really now, who wants to use a weapon that's almost guaranteed to choke when you need it most?"

"Well, I haven't had any problems with it" He said looking down at his own weapon with obvious pride.

At first she looked to be confused by his comment and actions, then finally, Winry realized his mistake.

"I wasn't talking about your guns, silly! That's what you get for eves dropping. But, if you'd like to give me yours, I'll be happy to give you an assessment" She said with the utmost sincerity, her face the picture of consideration and helpfulness, as she held out her hand for his weapon.

With a scandalized look, Bailey jerked his gun closer to his body, and quickly moved out of her reach, as a few of the other men, including Harper, had a laugh at his expense. But Mustang only breathed a sigh of relief, because the situation had been diffused before it could became more serious. He didn't mind too awfully, that it made the irascible Mr. Bailey come off as an ass as well, but he kept that amusement carefully to himself.

_**A/N: **__Ok, that's it for chapter two... Now, in case you haven't figured it out already, this story takes __place during WWII... I decided to exploit a time line discrepancy between the parts of first anime that take place in our world and those parts in the movie, Conqueror of Shambala, that do. If you're wondering what I'm talking about, here are the facts... According to the movie, Ed has been in our world for about 2 years at the time of the Beer Hall Putsch (A real event that occurred in November, 1923), but at the end of the anime, the version of Ed from our world is killed by a Zeppelin bombing in Britain, the last of which took place in June of 1917... as you can see the math doesn't remotely add up. So I'm using that to my advantage and saying that time does not flow consistently on both sides of the Gate... Sooo, that's how Roy and Winry ended up in April, 1945._

_Thanks for reading, see you next time!_


	3. Chapter 3: Where Do We Go From Here?

_**A/N**: It's finished... Not too far behind schedule either! I will admit that I'm not entirely happy with one section, but I'm happy with the chapter as a whole, so I'm not willing to leave you hanging for another month or so, just quell my own insecurity issues over a few paragraphs of it. I can (and probably will) come back and edit them to my satisfaction later... _

_ A double shout out to ZonkieTheGreat, because in a sleep deprived epic fail, I forgot to thank her last chapter. She really is the best story adviser EVER. She has been my compass throughout the writing process and this story wouldn't be half of what it is with out her._

_ Soooo, Without further ado, and the gratuitous space filler otherwise known as '_Author's Notes you may never read'_ (maybe I just like the sound of my own keyboard)... On with the show!_

.o0o.o0o.o0o.

_**Chapter 3**_

_**Where do We Go from Here?**_

They stopped to make camp shortly before sundown, near what might once have been a farm house. Though all that remained of it now, was a partially tumbled down stone chimney, and a pile of wood and cobbles that had once been walls and a roof. Morbidly, she wondered if it had been abandoned _before_ the explosion had leveled it.

As they settled into the space, though, the whole quality of the group changed. There was a feeling of winding down, not that they let down their guard any... It was just this quality in the air, a clear sense that they were no longer actively seeking confrontation... And to be honest, it was a relief.

Throughout the day, they had stopped twice more. Excluding Mustang, who had been relieved of Bailey's weapon at the conclusion of this morning's firefight, the men of the group had entered two more small semi-fortified looking compounds. They did so with much bravado, which greatly contrasted their demeanor upon exiting.

Far from the disappointment she would have expected after such an entrance, the men actually seemed quite relieved. They had moved on from both sites with little fanfare, apparently finding neither anything, nor anyone of real value at either site.

Now, as dusk settled in around them, the men began to perform the more menial, and ordinary tasks of life. One of the men, Hanson, had managed to scrounge up a decent sized pot from the rubble. It had been filled with water from a surprisingly still functioning pump, discovered near the back of the ruin.

Also scavenged from the debris, was enough wood to fuel a small cooking fire for a few hours, over which the pot had been set to boil. Bailey wasted no time in beginning to drop a few large gold labeled cans into the water, as Hanson returned with additional chunks of broken beam to stock the small blaze.

"Hey ma, what's for supper?" Hanson said, peering down into the water. Then without allowing Bailey answer, he glanced back up, and in a whiny childish voice, cried "Aw ma, can soup again?"

Bailey grinned, rolling his eyes, then gave him a playful shove back toward the rest of the men.

"Shut up, Hanson, If you don't like it you can just have cold canned 'meat product'" Bailey called after him sarcastically, a comment that was met with grimaces all around.

Carter sidled up to Bailey a few moments later, also peering into the pot.

"How're we doing, private?"

"That's the last of the C's, sir."

"Well, then I guess it's a good thing we'll be back at the command post tomorrow. Hopefully we'll be able to pick more up then..."

Bailey nodded, and returned to tending the fire, as the rest of the men began to lay out their bed rolls. This action brought home a realization that left Winry feeling apprehensive to say the least. It wasn't that she hadn't known she would be sleeping along side these men, it was just that she hadn't considered the general lack of privacy... And with the experiences of this morning still very fresh in her mind, she was less than enthused by the prospect.

Standing at the perimeter, she watched nervously as the squad went about their business, then she spied Mustang creating a makeshift bed from two of the pilfered blankets. Like it or not, he did present a tolerable, if not, as he'd stated last night, 'ideal' solution to her predicament.

He looked surprised to say the least when she began to lay out a bed of her own there beside his, but he said nothing so neither did she. As with this afternoon, the men shared their rations with the two new comers. They were outsiders, and as such there was little conversation to be had once the 'are you married / do you have a boyfriend' avenues had been exhausted, so at the conclusion of the meal, Winry decided to retire.

It had been a long, stressful day, and not a terribly restful sleep the night before. Much to her chagrin, though, she found she was wide awake. And despite her best efforts, she simply couldn't quite make herself drift off.

She was _still_ trying, when Roy finally came to lay down beside her. She'd rolled, and shifted, and turned in search of a comfortable position, 'til she thought she'd be permanently, and inextricably tangled into her bedding... Then, as she rolled, yet again, onto her right side, she opened her eyes in frustration, and was startled to find herself eye to eye with Mustang. He wore a concerned look, and seemed to have been watching her for some time.

Sighing, she levered herself up on one elbow. Laying her head in her upraised hand, she asked the question that had been bothering her since she came to in that frigid ruin last night...

"Roy, what are we doing here?"

"Pardon?"

Once again, he seemed startled by this sudden end to her silence, but recovered quickly, barely giving her a chance to repeat the question before delivering a smooth response.

"I would have thought that was obvious, I'm here to get Ed and Al back."

It was too smooth, too rehearsed, but he'd slipped when he said 'I' not 'We'. Clearly he hadn't intended for her to be brought along. That had been made all the more obvious, by his response to seeing her last night... Things weren't going according to his, most likely, meticulously crafted plan. Still, she wondered what had been his motivation in the first place. After all, he was a man driven by deep currents, and he had never been one to do anything by halves...

"That's not what I mean. What I'm getting at is, _why now_? What made you decide to go looking for them at this moment, and not one or three or five years ago?"

"I just thought it was time someone did something about the situation, and people weren't exactly lining up to take on the task."

His answer was nonchalant, but it was clear he was still evading something, so she pushed.

"So you decided that someone should be you?... Did anyone else know your plans? Can we expect a rescue party?"

Now, finally, she began to see the cracks in that smooth, self assured facade...

"No"

He said it in that same tone he'd used, when she'd asked him to make a fire last night, and for the first time, he broke eye contact, though only briefly.

"I'm sorry, this hasn't exactly gone as I had planned... What on earth possessed you to walk out on the array like that in the first place?"

When he looked back up at her questioningly, she finally saw the true Mustang, not the mask he showed the world... But she didn't care for the way he seemed to shift the blame.

"I was coming to tell you off- Well not you exactly because I didn't even realize it was you at the time, but I was coming to tell off the soldier I saw messing with the array..."

Even in the darkness she saw him blanch.

"You, a civilian in a restricted zone, were going to waltz up to a soldier you didn't even know and start yelling at them? Have you lost your mind?"

In the back of her mind she wondered, not for the first time, if she _had_ gone insane... When had she become so impulsive, so vindictive, she hadn't always been that way, had she?...

"I can take care of my self" She pouted selfconsciously.

The look he gave her in response, was as dubious as his reply.

"Oh, really? How long have you been living down there?" He countered dryly, though she noticed her initial question still had yet to be answered.

"That's beside the point, you're changing the subject!"

"So are you, how long?"

She sighed in frustration, because she knew she wasn't going to get any further, until she answered him.

"Ten months." She ground out, hoping to end this line of questioning, and get him back on track, but he was only just getting started.

"And how long has it been since you spent any real time with other people, that _didn't_ involve work?"

"You're one to talk..." She grumbled defensively.

Nodding his head once he conceded that point, but did not let up.

"Be that as it may, I spoke to Sheska after I saw you in the graveyard. She didn't even know you were in the city, let alone that you'd been there for over a year! You're too young to be living like this, Winry... To lock yourself away, like some hermit in that crypt!"

"What do you know about it!" She cried petulantly.

Perhaps it was just how tired she was, but having him speak to her like that... Like he had any right to criticize the way she lived, it aggravated her beyond reason. Apparently though, she wasn't the only one feeling impassioned by the bent this conversation had taken...

"What do _I_ know about it?" He shot back without hesitation. "I _know_ what I saw in your eyes that day at the cemetery, the complete lack of hope... You asked me why we we're here? That's why. I've been the person on the other side of that look too many times before, and I knew that if I didn't do something, it would be you I buried next... I just... I couldn't let..." Abruptly he clamped his jaw shut, cutting off any further words, but it was already too late.

"You're saying you did this for me?" she said, staring at him incredulously, her tone matching her demeanor.

After a moment he nodded, a familiar intensity filling his eyes, but it only served to anger her further.

"And I'm to thank you for _this_?" She asked, casting her hand in a sweeping gesture to indicate their surroundings.

She hadn't meant to sound ungrateful, that small rational part of her mind honestly did appreciate the gesture... But he'd managed to get under her skin, _again. _ She'd been shocked, to say the least, by his latest admission. Especially considering the results.

So, without thinking, she'd struck back at him, _again_. It was a tendency that had begun to become a most unwelcome fallback. She remembered a time when she'd been far more forgiving, and not quite so quick to anger... Where had that girl gone? Before she could apologize, though, she saw his eyes darken.

"No, of course not, why should you?... It was simply an honest answer to an honest question." His voice though quiet and calm, harbored a darkness that bordered on sarcasm, and despite the attempt at subterfuge, failed to conceal the anger he clearly felt.

Then, before she could say anything further, he abruptly rolled onto his other side, quickly, and effectively ending the conversation, as he turned his back on her.

Sighing in exasperation, she flopped onto her back, and stared up into the night sky. Why couldn't she ever just let things be easy? Why did she always have to assume there was an ulterior motive? She was too young to be so cynical... Sighing again, she shook her head, and rolled onto her left side, as she returned to the labor of finding sleep.

.o0o.

_ She'd realized her mistake to late. Power was flashing through the lines around her, causing them to glow blue-white. _

_ A scream tore from her throat, and she cowered as the wind began to whip around her. It wasn't usually in her nature to behave this way, but everyone was afraid of something, and though both Ed and Al had tried on various occasions to quell her fears, this part of alchemy had always frightened her terribly, ever since she was a small child. _

_ She saw him look up now, noticing her for the first time. Then she watched as his expression turned from elation, to recognition, and then pure panic. His lips forming the negative, he shot to his feet. She thought he might have shouted it, though if he had, she could not possibly have heard him over the rapidly increasing winds. _

_ Her hair blew into her eyes then, blinding her for a moment. By the time she had recovered her sight, he was racing towards her, hand outstretched, as the blocks at the center of the circle began to fall quickly away. The cascade reached them both at nearly the same moment, and as they tumbled into the darkness, she thought she might never forget the look that filled his eyes, it was a look of anguish,... pure, unadulterated, anguish... _

_ Suddenly she was no longer falling, but being pulled, as she felt thousands of icy hands grasping at her in the dark. Tiny, yet eerily strong, they dragged her deeper into the tar like gloom, easily overwhelming her struggles to break free. _

_ Piercing the darkness, like stars in a night sky, and easily as numerous, eyes began to appear all __around her. Some enormous, others miniscule, but all terrifying, they glared out at her from the black. Silently, they demanded to know why they shouldn't just keep her here in this terrible place for the rest of eternity, and to her horror, she found that she had no answer to offer them..._

.o0o.

With a gasp, she woke to find her hands bunched tightly into his shirt. She was covered in sweat, and her face was wet with tears.

"I'm not Ed!" Mustang repeated harshly, his face swimming into view, mere inches from hers.

He was gripping her upper arms, as he leaned over her. Shocked, she let go of the fabric, yanking back her hands. He released her arms in response and pulled back from her as she pushed herself away, then sat up, pulling her knees to her chest.

"I'm sorry." she said breathlessly, lowering her eyes in embarrassment.

Still attempting to gather her her thoughts, she tried not to notice the heads that had popped up in response to the commotion. Hands shaking, she wiped her face dry, and after considerable effort, managed to slow her breathing. From the corner of her eye, she could see Mustang staring at her, still sitting in the position he'd been in when she'd skittered away from him. It was almost enough to undo her all over again.

It wasn't as though she'd never had bad dreams before. Lately, her mind seemed to take particular joy in tormenting her with scenes of her past.

That eerie pinkish dome that had swallowed up Lior along with all the soldiers in it, and the more recent 'Outworlder' attack, put in regular appearances. Supporting roles went to 'Barry the Chopper', and the various homunculus she had encountered during her travels with the boys.

On plenty of occasions, she'd woken to the sounds of her own cries echoing from the walls of the small stone building she called home. No, nightmares weren't all that uncommon for her, she just wasn't used to having an audience, let alone company.

"Are you alright now?" He asked, after giving her a minute to gather her self.

She nodded silently, but it wasn't true.

"Come back and lie down"

His voice was gentle now, but she just wasn't ready, and at his words, she shook her head vehemently. She was too embarrassed and besides, his eyes and voice might be kind, even concerned now, but that had not been the case when she'd first woken in this predicament. Then they had been all but incensed.

"Come on, Winry, come back to bed. Tomorrow's going to be another long day, you'll need your rest." He entreated softly.

But she stayed where she was.

"I'd rather sit up for now, I'm still to shaken to sleep" She said, giving a false smile that was far more reassured than she was.

He nodded curtly, though she was sure he could see through her false bravado, and as he lay back down, she became sure of it, as she felt his eyes burning into her. It made her feel guilty, because she realized he probably wouldn't sleep until she did, and she would not be sleeping again tonight.

Miserable with guilt and embarrassment, she rested her forehead on her crossed arms. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, but this night would be even longer. She sighed, and began her silent vigil for the dawn.

.o0o.

They reached the command post late the next morning, at which time, both Winry and he were ordered to remain at the perimeter, as the other men crossed within. This was to be expected, as they were not trusted military personnel.

Preparing to wait a while, Mustang seated himself on one of the empty wooden crates that lay at the edge of the encampment. Winry did likewise, but conversation with her seemed unlikely. They'd barely spoken five words to one another, after the events of last night. He supposed that was to be expected, he'd been harsh with her, and though he'd tried to make it up to her, as was so often the case with him, it had been too little, too late... So instead, he chose to watch as Carter reported in to what he assumed, was his superior officer.

He could tell when the subject of the conversation turned to him, as a greater than usual number of looks and gestures, began to be cast in his direction. What really nailed it, though was when Carter dipped into his pocket, only to produce the patches and pins that had been removed from Mustang's own jacket. The man took them from Carters hands and sifted through them slowly, wearing a look of bewilderment, as he cast a few furtive glances over at the man in question.

They hadn't been sitting there long when, with a cough and a sputter, a large truck rolled up to the edge of the post and died. A second later the driver hopped out, and though whatever he'd said had been under his breath, it was clear by his expression and gestures, that it had been obscenity laced. Finally he gave the tire a kick, then spun around and leaned back against the fender, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the one of sentries approach him.

The sentry wasn't the only one closing in on the man, though. Unnoticed by Mustang, Winry had gotten to her feet, and was now also approaching the dark skinned man. Fearing this might become a problem, as the man was clearly associated in some way with the men of this post, Mustang also got to his feet and began to follow. She reached the man just as he seemed to be explaining the behavior of the truck before it died. She wasted no time wading into the conversation, though Mustang was too far away to hear the beginning of it, he got there in time to hear her ask...

"...do you mind if I have a look?"

"Well, I don't think there's anything you could hurt, sweetheart, as long as you keep your nose under the hood and out of the back, but to be honest, I think your wastin' your time. I'm pretty sure she finally just gave up the ghost. I told the guys back at the depot, she didn't sound right, but they sent me on anyway. Now here I am, not even half the way up the road, and she's done for..."

Far from spell bound, at least by him, it seemed Winry had stopped listening to him about the moment he gave her the go ahead. In seconds, she had the hood unclipped, and was flipping it up as the man let his monologue trail off, and turned to help her with it.

An instant later she had stepped up, and was balancing on the bumper, with her head and shoulders deep in the engine compartment, her hands resting on the grill and fender to brace her, as she studied the workings of the truck. After a minute or so, she asked him again to describe the sounds and behavior of the truck just prior to it dieing out.

Unbeknownst to her, the spectacle had gotten the attention of the men within the post, and had begun to draw a growing group of onlookers. Oblivious, or simply unfazed by the gathering crowd, she requested a few tools, which the driver obligingly fetched for her as she continued to tinker under the hood.

Still standing where he'd stopped, a few paces from the truck, Mustang let a smile slip out onto his usually stern exterior... He couldn't help but admire Winry as she gloried in her element, she truly was a sight to behold.

Suddenly, he became aware of someone very close beside him, and turned to find Harper standing there.

"She really is something, ain't she?"

Feeling that smile burgeoning into a full grown grin, Mustang nodded. At that moment, Winry asked the driver to try and turn over the engine. He hopped up into the cab, and after a few chattering rounds of the starter it roared to life, garnering a cheer from the gathered men that startled her. Blushing furiously, she hopped down. Barely turning to look at them, she gave a curt nod to the crowd before hurrying to return the borrowed tools to the driver.

"So how'd you wind up with a girl like that?" Harper asked, drawing Mustang's attention back to him.

"I think you've misconstrued our relationship, Winry and I aren't together..." He said hastily, the grin disappearing completely from his face.

"You sure about that?"

"_Yes_, She lost her family, I simply try to look out for her when I can."

"Sure, sure, of course..." Harper said, but the sly wink he shot him before he walked away, told Mustang that he didn't believe a word of it... Told him as clearly as the friendly edge of sarcasm in his voice.

.o0o.

"Interesting..." Commander Shaw stated quietly, as he observed the goings on just outside the post's perimeter.

"You can say that again... She's very capable, so's her traveling companion, but if they're with the Axis, they sure got a funny way of showing it... Maybe some branch of the resistance"

"Whatever the case may be, The man freely admits to having had military affiliations, and the women demonstrates an uncanny understanding of our arms and equipment. They may well be harmless, or even turn out to be an asset to us, but at the moment I just don't feel entirely comfortable simply sending them on their merry way this close to the enemy territory... There's an army run refugee camp not far from here. Given it's proximity to your next assignment, and the fact that you and your men are already somewhat familiar with these two, I think it would be best if you were to see them there personally... Agreed?"

"Yes, sir"

"Meanwhile, I'll send these on to army intelligence, see what they can make of them... If anything comes up, I'll contact you with further instructions"

"And our current instructions?"

"Yes, yes, of course." The commander said, turning his attention back to the maps on the field desk "Planes flying over have reported a number of possible compounds here, here, and here, and a suspicious looking installation here." He paused indicating positions on one of the maps "Usual drill, clear them and report back on any intel you find. Is there anything else you'll need?"

"Well, rations and ammo of course, but a canteen or two, and a spare pack would also be helpful. Those two showed up with little more than the clothes on their back..."

"That shouldn't be a problem, The lieutenant will make the necessary arrangements, and I'll have him relay the exact coordinates to you. I hope you don't mind K rations, that's all we have in right now."

"I guess it's like they say, sir, whatever doesn't kill you..." Carter let the end of the saying trail off into an overly dramatic sigh, then smiled.

At this the commander grinned.

"We can only hope, Sargent, we can only hope."

.o0o.

Even in her wearied state, the feat hadn't been all that impressive... Tighten this, loosen that, a little 'percussive' therapy, and she'd turned right over. But the men that had gathered, including the driver of the heap, looked at her like she was some kind of miracle worker. Mustang had even smiled... That is, until Harper had said something to wipe the grin clean off his face.

Deciding it was probably best not to acknowledge the attention, she'd returned to her seat without another word. Shortly there after the men's attention was drawn elsewhere, as Carter emerged from the encampment, followed by two men carrying large crates, and a third hauling a couple of large metal canisters. Carter's squad gathered around, the groaning of the nails as they began to pry the lids from the crates, was echoed by the men as they ascertained the contents... K rations.

"Alright, that's enough," Carter said gruffly, quickly silencing them "Load up, we leave in five."

"That goes for you two as well. We were able to scrounge up a few things for you." He said a moment later, coming to stand before she and Roy.

To them, he held out two silver colored canteens, and a greenish brown colored pack.

"Each one of the small boxes over there in those crates, holds a day's worth of rations, pack enough to cover the both of you for seven days."

With that he walked away, leaving them to it.

.o0o.

When they finally made camp for the night, he was, at first, determined to wait up until she finally decided to sleep, but a bit of motion at the edge of his vision caught his attention. Her chin dipped to her chest momentarily, then she began to slouch down, only to rear back up as she tried to shake off the bone deep weariness. Watching from the corner of his eye as the action was repeated again, it became readily apparent, that her intentions were just about the same as his. Seeing her rear upright for a third time, he realized she wasn't going to give in. He now suspected, that if he waited for her to make the first move, no move would be made at all, and from what he already knew of her, she could more than match him in willful stubbornness. So he decided on a new course of action. Taking the blankets from the pack they had been given back at the command post, he laid out their beds, then called her over.

"Come lay down, I've made your bed"

"Thanks, but I'm not tired" She said, brushing her hair back as she made to return to the fire.

"You're a terrible liar"

This made her pause. She glanced back over her shoulder warily.

"Excuse me?"

"You're exhausted, Winry, you need to sleep."

Sighing she turned back to face him.

"I don't want to disturb you again" She admitted quietly, dipping her head.

Lingering embarrassment over last night's incident, clearly written on her face.

"I'll be fine. I was just startled last night, it won't happen again." He said gently.

Trying to sound reassuring, he reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, but she jerked away, shaking off his hand as she glared up at him.

"It will, it will happen again!" She cried, then pursing her lips, she softened. "...And you were so angry last night."

He sighed, pausing to consider his next words carefully, lest he drive her to do something rash.

"Winry, I realize this might come as a surprise to you, but I don't exactly wake up all sweetness and light... Just ask Bailey, he's had first hand experience with what kind of mood I wake up in. My reaction to you wasn't personal, I'm just not terribly used to sleeping in the company of other people, I haven't done so for quite a while..."

"Really Colonel, what would the ladies back home think? The reputation you've earned with them is quite the opposite..." she said dryly, though her face remained serious.

Seeing that fatigue had failed to dull her sharp tongue, he chose not to take offense, and instead shot her a wry grin. Softening, she returned it weakly, but it was still a relief, because it was the first one he'd seen out of her all day.

"What if I wake you again?"

"Then you do, I'm no stranger to nightmares, Winry. I'm just sorry I reacted so badly, I'll do better next time. Now please lay down, a blind man could see you're ready to drop."

"What about you?"

"I'll sleep when you do."

Sighing, she finally conceded with a nod, before sliding down into the bed he had made for her. Seconds later she was asleep.

.o0o.

The next day, now fairly well rested, they resumed their journey. A few hours later, they encountered another compound, not unlike the ones they'd seen the first day. As with the others, Carter's men searched the premises, radioing back there findings once they had completed their rounds. Having ended their obligations at that particular local, they continued on. Breaking for lunch about an hour later.

Sitting there beside her, Mustang saw Winry grimace as she took a bite of her rations, then looked around at the rest of the men as they quietly ate theirs. It was he and Winry's second straight day eating them, and these so called 'K Rations' didn't taste any better today, than they had on their first day here... Suddenly, it seemed, she could stand it no more... She spoke up.

"I'm not trying to be rude, or imply I could do any better, honestly, but does this stuff taste as awful to you guys as it does to me?"

This brought a roar of laughter from the whole squad, and shattered the silence that had been hanging heavy over the whole group since they left the command post.

"She certainly cuts straight to the point, doesn't she Mustang" Harper said, shaking his head as tears began to roll down his cheeks "No, sweetheart, they don't taste any better to us. It's just that our tongues have gone numb from eating them so much..."

"Well, Harper," Bailey piped up "I think I've got just the remedy for you!"

Now he stood, and began to pace around the circle of men like a schill warming up a crowd.

"You know Maddox back at the command post? Well he's been after me for weeks about that knife picked up a while back, and he finally had something that was worth trading it for... Look"

He held up four foil wrapped packages, banded in yellow paper, the word chocolate emblazoned across it in a white block script that was outlined in red.

"Hey, aren't those the ones that come in the ten-in-one's?" Hanson asked, eyes wide.

"Sure are."

"But if we're all still eating K-rations, where the hell'd he get 'em?" Hicks demanded angrily.

"Can't honestly say I know, or care. They're mine now boys, and I'm feeling generous, anybody want a piece?"

There was a chorus of answers to the affirmative. He tore open the wrapper of the first bar, and began to break off pieces of it, handing a few to each man as he made his way around the circle. He continued on like this until he reached Mustang, at which point he hesitated.

It seemed as though he'd almost forgotten they were there. Behind him, Mustang saw Carter's jaw tighten, but to the surprise of all, and before anything could be said or done, Bailey resumed his rounds, handing a few pieces to Mustang with a subtle nod before moving on.

It wasn't exactly an offer of friendship, but it was far more than Roy had expected, especially this early on... The marks they each bore from that first encounter had not even begun to fade yet.

Bailey finished his rounds, and returned to his place, as the group savored this impromptu treat in contented semi silence.

.o0o.

That evening things were noticeably more relaxed as the squad settled in for the night. The two that traveled with them, no longer strangers to the rest of the group. Everyone had gathered around the small fire, and after a time, begun, as soldiers are sometimes want to do, to tell stories of their lives back home.

Winry seemed quite taken with the stories, and upon noticing this, many of the men who might previously have remained silent, joined in with the intent to impress her. Even Bailey joined in the fray. Several had gone before a lull in the conversation finally came. It was quickly filled, though, as the last storyteller called over to Harper, who was occupied with looking after Carter's now healing leg.

"So what's your story, Doc? What did you do before, and what possessed you to get into this mess?"

Mustang had heard some of them refer to Harper as 'Doc' several times before. He'd always assumed it was in reference to his status as a medic, but he would soon find out that wasn't the case.

"Me...?"

His attention having been elsewhere when the question was asked, he took a moment to collect his thoughts, before giving an answer.

"I came up in farm country, back in Indiana. We didn't get hit by the dust bowl as badly as those poor folks further west, but we still had it pretty bad. My father and I had to hunt to keep food on the table. Hell, I can still hear him saying 'if you can't track, you won't eat'" He said laughingly, as he lowered his tone to mimic his father's voice, then shook his head, and smiled nostalgically. "Words to live by, and I guess I got to be pretty good at it... but if there was one thing he preached harder than tracking, it was education... No matter how bad things got, he never let me quit school, there was no moving him. Whenever I'd even suggest it, though he was far from stupid, he'd just say 'my son's not gonna be just another dumb Podunk farmer'... I think he actually cried when I got in to Notre Dame on a scholarship, he was so proud. I was the first in my family to finish high school, and go to college. Still, back then I thought I'd never leave Indiana, just live out my life as a country doctor. But after Pearl, I knew what I had to do... I can tell you, Pop was none too pleased when I quit school to join up, but I think he's still proud of my decision, despite the disappointment."

"What about you, Sargent?" Harper asked, turning to quirk an eyebrow at his friend and commander.

"Everyone here already knows my story, _including_ her... No point in dragging the past out of mothballs just to jawjack..."

When they saw her nod in affirmation, the men did not press him to continue, but having noticed one of squad members that had remained strangely silent throughout, Winry turned to Harry.

"What bout you? What brings you to this line of work?" She prompted.

Harry had always been the quiet one of the group, Mustang noticed. He seemed to keep to himself, not just around Winry, but around the rest of the men as well, and the way he kept his head down and did his job with out comment, made him strike Mustang as a man with something to prove...

"Just figured I was better off coming here to kill Nazis, than to stay home and get accused of being one" He stated quietly.

They'd been with Carter's group long enough, and heard enough talk to understand what he meant, who the enemy was, and further to come to the understanding that these 'Nazis' were a particularly nasty group.

"That's terrible, why would anyone say that?" Winry asked, the look on her face was one of horror and disbelief.

He gave her a bitter half smile, and looked down for a moment, before meeting her eyes.

"My name, it's German. Everyone here just calls me Harry, but my full name's Heinrich Vogler, and back home if someone heard it, they automatically thought I _was_ one... Does it matter that my family's been in Texas for generations, and I don't speak a lick a German! Nope, back home if I'm German then I'm a Nazi, and that's that. It's not new, the same thing happened to my pa back during the great war. Having a German name was a crime then too, but he was a proud man, I think he named me out of spite. At least here these guys can see I'm more than just a name..."

.o0o.

Just after their supper had concluded, Bailey abruptly got to his feet, going to stand before Carter.

"With your permission, sir, I think I would like to take miss Rockbell up on her offer..."

"At ease, Private." Carter said, quirking an eyebrow at the man's uncharacteristically stiff, formal stance. "What offer might that be?"

"The other day, despite my less than exemplary behavior, she offered to give an assessment of my weapon. I'll admit I was skeptical at the time, but she's shown herself to be both capable and knowledgeable. So..."

"Been thinking about this for a while, haven't you, Bailey?"

"Yes, sir"

"Alright, if it helps you sleep better-" Carter began grudgingly, then noticing the increased attention the men around him were giving to this little exchange, said a little louder "If it helps you _all_ sleep a little better! Go ahead Bailey, just make sure you clear it before you give it to her, don't need anyone _else _getting shot this week... And you might try extending an apology to her _first_, after all you did make quite an ass of yourself..."

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir"

"-And lay off the sirs, yer makin' me feel old!"

With out hesitation, he came to stand before Winry, leading off with a heart felt apology for his previous behavior, then asking her again, as though she had not been well within earshot when he asked Carter. Before him, he held out his weapon to her with the reverence he might have shown an infant. She looked him in the eye for a long moment. Then, just when he believed she would surely turn him down, she surprised him.

"I would love to..." She said, taking the weapon from him, and laying it in her lap for a cursory inspection.

As she did so, without looking up, she asked.

"Do you think I could have a bar of that chocolate?"

For the briefest moment he looked strickened, but recovered quickly, covering with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Since she'd still been looking down at the gun he'd just handed her, she hadn't seen it, but Mustang had... Clearly Bailey had been planning to hold on to those a while, and he could understand that... In war sometimes even the simplest comforts were few and far between...

"Winry, don't ask him for that"

"Huh?" She asked, absentmindedly glancing up.

Looking first to Mustang, she followed his gaze to Bailey.

"No, I'll give it to her, it's a fair enough trade"

While it was subtle, this time she saw what Mustang had seen.

"You know what, never mind, just hold onto it-"

"But-"

"If it makes you feel better, I won't turn down a few pieces if I'm still around when you open them"

He seemed torn for a moment, then finally nodded, giving her the slightest of smiles... This one, however, did reach his eyes, and the relief shown therein was tangible. Smiling in return, she patted the ground on the other side of her, inviting him to sit as she spread one of her blankets before her. But as she laid the firearm before her, preparing to dismantle it, he suddenly put a hand out to halt her.

"Wait..."

His nervousness was back.

"Are you sure you'll be able to do this without damaging it... Have you ever taken apart something you couldn't put back together?"

"Well, there was a pocket watch once, but that movement was far more complex than this. Besides that was years ago, I was just a kid back then..."

At this Mustang grinned. He'd always had his suspicions about what happened to Ed's watch, but he'd never been certain until now.

"Don't you worry, Private..." She said, patting his outstretched hand reassuringly. "We'll sort this out in no time."

Haltingly, he pulled back his hand, and she set to work. Just as it had when she'd revived the truck, her industrious labor drew the attention of all those gathered around the fire. Oblivious to her rapt audience, she worked quickly, paying close attention to how each part interacted with the whole... Finally as she finished reassembling it, she gave her pronouncement.

"It's in good working order, I found no major faults in it's design or construction... _But_ there is one thing I can suggest..." She said pulling a corroded round from her pocket, and laying it in his upturned palm. "Be a little more mindful of the ammo you load... That round is what jammed your gun, and gave Mustang the chance to wallop you."

"Yes, ma'am, thank you ma'am." He said contritely

Even in the firelight, they could tell he was blushing deeply as she returned the weapon to him.

.o0o.

Late that evening, she lay awake thinking. She'd been too exhausted the last few days, to really process what had gone on, but now one thing kept circling in her mind. Mustang's startling admission of two nights ago. It kept rolling over and over again in her mind until, finally, she could stand it no longer. Quietly she called out to him, and was relieved to find him still awake.

"You're restless tonight, what's bothering you?" He asked, propping him self up on one elbow.

His perceptiveness was at once both unnerving, and disarming. She decided to go straight to the heart of the matter.

"Did you really think I was going to kill my self?... Because I wouldn't have, you know."

"I know... It was just this feeling I got when I saw you that day, you were so thin and pale... There was no hope or fight left in your eyes...

"I know that look, I've seen it before on the battlefield. It was like you were already dead inside, and you were only waiting for your body to catch up. Did you honestly think I could stand by and do nothing... Just let it happen? Don't I have enough on my conscience already?"

"But I wouldn't have done it." She said plaintively, like a child accused.

He sighed, then with a knowing look, replied.

"You wouldn't have stopped it either..."

Pursing her lips, she let out a long breath, then rolled onto her back, unsure how to respond. Seeming to understand that he'd pushed her far enough, he made no attempts to pursue the conversation further. Instead he followed her lead, laying back on his own bedroll, he rolled onto his side. Shortly there after, his breathing fell into a deep, even pattern, and though his back was to her, she could tell he was asleep. How he could sleep, after what to her was an earth shattering revelation, she did not know, but sleep he did, leaving her to lay restless, staring up at the waxing moon.

Though she was loath to admit it, He was right. While not actively seeking death, it was unlikely she would have defended herself, had she been attacked, or tried to protect herself in any way, had some accident befallen her... In all honesty, she probably would have welcomed it. She certainly hadn't reached out for help when she needed it most, even though it had been well within her grasp...

It unnerved her, how well he had read her. Again he had demonstrated a knowledge of her that defied her understanding of him. On the surface, he'd rarely ever paid _any_ direct attention to her, but it was clear by these recent revelations, that he had, in fact, been paying _very_ close attention to her for some time. It was all more than a little troubling, and despite her weariness, these thoughts kept her awake long past all but the man keeping watch.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.

_**A/N**: Well that's it for now, folks... I hope it was worth the wait. Baring any unforeseen calamities, the next chapter should be back on schedule, dropping about a month from now. So until next time here's wishing you a Happy Halloween! _


	4. Chapter 4: Little Patch of Hell

_**Fair Warning!:** This chapter is one of the reasons this story earns an M rating... Parts of it, particularly the latter half, are extremely violent and disturbing. If you find; graphic physical violence, verbal abuse, and the other assorted ways people can be horrible to each other; disturbing, **do not** read farther... **You Have Been Warned!**_

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

_**Chapter 4**_

_**Little Patch of Hell**_

It had been two days since they left the command post behind them, and there had been little excitement, just long days spent walking, punctuated by the occasional brief excitement of clearing a compound.

Much to Harper's chagrin, Carter had refused to visit the medical unit they passed close to, claiming his leg didn't bother him at all, even though he ended each day limping piteously. To his credit, though, he never complained about it, and in spite of the harsh treatment, it did seem to be healing.

It was midday, and they were in good spirits. Carter was relating a story about his 'friend', and the pitfalls of a long night spent drinking in a strange city... They had barely been able to understand parts of it, Carter had been laughing so hard, but they would never hear the conclusion...

As Carter crested the next hill ahead of the rest, the laughter died in his throat, and he came to an abrupt halt.

Ahead in the distance, was a cluster of long, narrow buildings set next to a rail siding. They were surrounded by layers of barbed wire fence, and several smokestacks grew out of their midst...

"Not another one. God, don't let it be true..." He whispered, looking stricken.

The rest of the group had come to a stop as well. Any joy that had been there just moments before, was now long gone.

"Let's go boys" He said, after a long pause, and a deep fortifying breath. But his voice was still weak, and reluctant.

At his command, they all began, once more, to move forward, but Carter quickly put a hand against Mustang's chest.

"Not you two" He said quietly, coming around to stand very close. "She shouldn't have to see this, _no one should_ _really..._ But we have to... To see if anyone's left..."

Just then, the wind shifted, carrying on it the stench of decaying flesh, underpinned faintly by a smell Roy was far better acquainted with... The smell of burnt flesh. A look of horror crossed Mustangs face

"What is that place?" He gasped, covering his mouth and nose with his sleeve, in a vain attempt to block out the odor.

"Hell" Was the quiet, matter of fact, reply.

But it came from Harper, who's youthful face now wore a haunted expression.

"Here" Carter said, pressing his sidearm into Mustang's hand. "Go up into the tree line, and make camp. We'll try to get back there before dusk..."

Nodding once, he began to walk away, then thinking the better of it, he turned back to Mustang once more.

"Keep your guard up... And try not to let her take it apart before we get back, you may well need it..." He gave a weak smile that fell far short of his eyes.

Mustang nodded grimly, then turned. Taking her by the shoulders, he led her off in the direction Carter had indicated.

.o0o.

"What's going on, what was that smell?"

He didn't respond.

She tried to look back, as he quickly propelled her forward, barely allowing her to catch herself when she stumbled. He did not slow until they had reached the tree line. A few yards in, he finally stopped

"We'll make camp here" He said in a cold, blank tone.

Perplexed by the sudden turn of events, she could only watch as he began clearing the area of debris. Then, taking note of the pistol he had tucked into the back of his waistband, she again tried to pry an answer from him.

"Colonel, what's going on? Why didn't we go with them? What was that place?"

She hadn't meant to call him that, it was just an outdated habit, but it finally garnered a response from him, if not the one she'd been looking for...

Almost angrily, he grabbed a particularly large fallen branch, and began dragging it to the edge of the area he had designated.

"Don't call me that, I'm not a Colonel here, I'm not _anything_ here..."

Her frustration grew as he sidestepped the question yet again

"Fine!... _**ROY!**_..."

That brought him up short.

"_WHAT-THE-HELL-IS-GOING-ON?_"

The life seemed to go out of him. Abandoning the branch he had been dragging, he sighed and turned to her.

"I don't really know for sure Winry, _but they did_ , and they asked me not to take you there... What ever it is, its bad, and they didn't want you to see it... Given the smell, I'm more than willing to humor them..."

"What was that smell?" She asked, remembering clearly the foul wind born stench.

He gave her a grim look.

"Something dead... Actually considering the strength of the scent, I'd say it was a _lot_ of dead somethings..."

Suddenly, she thought she understood what it was he was_ not_ saying, but some dark part of her still needed to hear it.

"People...?" She asked in a small voice.

With a sigh he answered.

"Judging by their reaction, I'd say that's quite likely,..."

She blanched, then brought her hand to her mouth, and turned away, but not before he saw the tears beginning to well up in her eyes.

"Now do you understand why they sent us away?" He said gently.

She only nodded, her back still to him, as she hurriedly began to help clear the ground. She didn't want him to see her cry. Apparently that was something he could sympathize with, because without further comment, he returned his focus to the large branch.

Barely acknowledging each others existence, they went about the business of making camp in that mutually agreed upon silence, until Carter and his men returned at sunset. Haunted looks seemed to be standard issue that evening...

.o0o.

Later that night, Harper and Mustang sat across the fire from each other, starring into the dying coals long after everyone else had fallen asleep. Harper had the current watch, and Mustang simply could not bring himself to sleep, so here they sat. Finally Harper broke the silence.

"Do you have a family back home? Wife? Kids?"

"No"

Suspecting where this might lead, Mustang did not elaborate further, but if he was hoping that Harper would take the monosyllabic answer as a hint, and let that be the end of it, he was quickly disabused of the notion.

"Why not?"

He shot a glance across the fire at Harper. Seeing the bored curiosity of someone looking for conversation, he sighed.

"My life has never really been conducive to starting one"

"What about Winry? You've certainly made time in your life for her..."

"No! Out of the question! I would never-"

"Why?... What is there between you and Winry? I've seen the way you smile when you watch her... And it's obvious to me that she cares about you. Hell, Del said she practically glued herself to the door, when Carter and I took you into that cottage alone. "

"You don't know what you're talking about..." He muttered quietly, shaking his head. "There's no way she could feel that way about me..."

"Then tell me what I'm missing? What is this distance you keep between you and her..." Harper asked, looking truly perplexed.

Mustang sighed, knowing that he wouldn't let up, until he had a satisfactory answer. He was much like Maes in that way... And just like Maes, he also realized, Harper had his best interests in mind, when he badgered him like this, so he acceded.

"As a soldier, I have done some truly terrible things, but the ones that haunt me, the ones I don't think I could ever truly be forgiven for, are the acts I committed against her" He said quietly, gazing toward her blanket shrouded form.

The look on Harper's face was one of suspicious concern, but he did not interrupt, so Mustang continued.

"I joined the military when I was seventeen. My mother had just died, and my father had been gone for so long as I could remember, whether dead, or just run off, I neither knew, or cared. Whatever the case, I had to find some means of supporting my self, so I joined up. I spent the usual few months in training, half of that training was having my head filled with all the propagandist bullshit governments tell naive young men... How by becoming a soldier, I was becoming an honorable guardian of the state; how it was my 'sacred duty' be a 'defender of the defenseless'; A '_hero_', protecting them from all the chaos and horror the 'Enemy' would bring down on them... And like so many others before me, I believed it. Bought it lock, stock, and barrel..."

Gritting his teeth, he gave a humorless smile at the irony of it, before continuing.

"Turned out I had skills they desired, so I advanced quickly... Wasn't long before I was sent out to do my 'sacred' duty. There was a rebellion in a city near our eastern most border. My battalion, along with several others, was sent to help put it down. While I was there, it came to the military's attention, that a couple of doctors had been treating both friend and foe. They had been asked to stop treating the enemy, but so far, had defied those requests. Then to add insult to injury, it was rumored, that their makeshift hospital had become a place the rebels gathered, not only to recuperate, but also, to plot further attacks.

"Of course, it couldn't be allowed to continue. I was sent, along with several other lower ranking officers, to deliver the government's final ultimatum... 'Cease their activities as ordered, or face the consequences'...

"We were under orders to execute them if they refused. Which, of course, they did. I was the one chosen at random, to carry out the order, and I did what I was told...

"You know the worst thing, though? I was still so green then, that I didn't even question the orders when they came down from my superiors. I just carried them out, like the good little soldier I was.

"It was hardly the first heinous act I had committed on their behalf. I did what they told me because I believed in them, and I believed in the cause... That we were out for the greater good, and their decision must be justified...

"Of course, I was wrong... But it wasn't until I'd spent days trying, and failing, to make some sense out of it; long sleepless nights spent wandering the streets, only to find myself back at that horrid place, again and again; seeing their faces every time I tried to close my eyes... Only then did I understand how grave a mistake I'd made.

"These weren't the nameless, faceless enemy I'd been trained to fight and kill... These were just two more good people, simply trying to do what was right... The same thing_ I_ was supposed to be there doing... And there _was_ no justification for killing them... No more effort would have been spared, had we simply arrested them and put them on a train home... It would have had the same effect. The realization was crushing, but there was worse still yet to come..."

His jaw clenched tightly at the memory, and for the barest moment, he was again fighting the desperate urge to drink, or run, or both. Fighting it down, he gave a bitter laugh.

"A few days later, they call me out in front of the rest of the men, pin a medal to my chest, and call me a hero... A _Hero..._ I killed two defenseless unarmed doctors,... Killed them because they refused to stop _healing_ people, _and they give me a medal for it_... It was to vile to bear. I nearly threw up when they pinned it on me... But the vale was gone from my eyes... There was nothing heroic about the war... Just greedy, isolated old men, who didn't give a damn who they destroyed in their quests for immortality... And I realized the only way to keep it from happening again, was to somehow destroy them first."

A look of sympathy shrouded his face, but there was a long silence that stretched out between them, before Harper abruptly echoed his laugh, lacing it with irony.

"I wanted to _be_ a doctor once... I was actually studying to become one, back before Pearl Harbor happened, and I joined up... I always figured I'd pick it back up again, once this thing was over..."

Harper let the thought trail off, seeming to struggle with how to continue. Finally he straightened, but his head lifted and fell twice, before he could meet Mustang's eyes, and in that moment, he suddenly seemed a much older man...

His next words came out haltingly, and so softly Mustang found himself leaning forward just to hear.

"About a month back, our squad ran up against some pretty heavy resistance in this little village near the border,... The battle was fierce, and they fought to the very last man... But they weren't men, were they..."

He shook is head in disgust.

"Just boys. Boys given grown men's guns and responsibilities..."

Mustang hardly knew how to respond to this, after all he himself had been responsible for recruiting Ed when he was just thirteen...

"Hitlerjugend or Hitler Youth... I guess originally, it was just aimed at indoctrinating young men into the ideals of the Reich, which is bad enough as it is... But when those bastards ran out of grown men to fight their battles, they started pressing those kids into service...

"It was some of them who were defending that village. A few of them couldn't have been more than ten- maybe twelve years old... But I didn't know... I didn't know they were just kids...

"Our staff Sargent was killed in that fight, and God help me, I wished every one of them dead, as vehemently as I have any other of the enemy I've faced...

"How do I reconcile that, with the ideals I had back then, back when I wanted to become a doctor... Even now, when I close my eyes, I see their faces, and I cant help but think of my daughter, and how horrible it must be for _their_ parents... War is a truly loathsome thing, and men do horrible things to each other in its name..."

"At least you'll probably never meet their parents..."

Harper nodded in agreement, and quietly muttered something about 'small comfort', but Mustang continued.

"... I'm not so lucky..."

Harper gave him a quizzical look , but remained silent as he waited for Mustang to gather himself and continue.

"You see, I wasn't entirely forthcoming when I said Winry had lost her parents... Those doctors- the ones I killed... Theywere Winry's parents..."

Had Mustang been raised catholic, as Harper had, he would have thought this felt very much like being in confession. As it was, though, he had no words to describe the truths tumbling out, only the desperate feeling of necessity to continue...

"And though I wish it was, lord knows it was more than enough, that's not my only crime against her... After they died, she became very close to a pair of brothers in her village, formed a sort of family with them... they had also been orphaned quite young.

"Unfortunately for her, they were both quite gifted scientifically, and they were also the sons of a well respected military scientist who'd gone missing during the rebellion. So, it wasn't long before they drew the attention of the military, and as fate would have it... _Me_...

"I didn't know who she was when I met them, but it didn't take me long to figure it out, yet I still wound up recruiting them. I guess in my arrogance, I thought I could protect them... And maybe by proxy, _her_... But I couldn't...

"The elder of the two joined first, because he wanted to further his work and gain access to the military's research, but during the coup I led against the king a few years later, he disappeared.

"His brother took up the research, following the disappearance... Soon after that, he was gone as well...

"I've taken everything from her,... Just about everyone she ever loved... The fact of which she has _always_ been the first to remind me... Now her grandmother's gone too.

"She's alone now, completely, and utterly, alone... And the only person left to watch over her is the one who caused it all in the first place... So, yes, I try to take care of her, I owe her that much and more... But I don't see how she could feel anything beyond hatred towards me... No matter how much I might wish what you say were true, it's just not possible..."

But Harper just gave him a sage look and answered simply

"And yet she does..."

.o0o.

She was awoken by raised voices, and swam up into consciousness in time to hear Harper demand that mustang explain what had happened between she and Roy. She wasn't sure what had happened to prompt this line of conversation, but she stiffened at the pain he unwittingly caused her with his question...

For a long time mustang did not answer, and she didn't know whether to be relieved, or angered by his hesitancy. Then, when he began to speak, she was spellbound. Until that very moment, she'd never realized how very little she really knew about his background.

He began by speaking about the training that would one day lead him to the murder of her parents. She felt a stab of rage. Like a dagger, it slipped between her ribs, to lance her heart like fire, but the rage she felt was no longer for him. It was for the people who had perpetrated the lies. The ones who had whispered them into the ears of so many such young men and women, many thousands, leading them to commit countless murders just like those of her parents.

He had entered the military to protect people, and then the very people he'd trusted most, had put him into a position where he'd been forced to hurt them instead. It had been his breaking point, but surprisingly, she now understood that instead of killing the idealism that drove him, it had turned that failure into a compulsion that drove him to do better. Then each time he faced a similar failure he was simply driven to do even more to make up for it. She could see now, that it was what had eventually brought them both here to this place... His all encompassing need to tinker, and fix, until the world matched his idealistic vision for it...

When he came to the actual event... Hearing the retelling of it was not quite so horrible as it had been the first time, but it still ached bitterly, and left her feeling hollow.

A warm drop splashed down onto the arm which she was using to pillow her head, and she realized that at some point, she had begun to cry. She hadn't expected him to go that far, to talk about how her parents died, but he did, and as he did her tears flowed in earnest.

It was difficult... As difficult as the day she'd crouched, hidden behind a pile of crates, and listened as two young Ishbalan boys told the tale of a young state alchemist, who'd been ordered to end the lives of two doctors, man and wife, who's only crime had been their willingness to help heal anyone who came through their doors...

While he did not go into vivid detail, he did elaborate further than the stark impersonal facts he'd given her first, beside the river near Risembul.

Part of her wanted to pull the blanket up over her head, and cover her ears, in an effort to block out those aching words. Really, there'd been too many revelations in the past few days... But another part of her could not turn away. It was the first time she'd heard his side of those terrible events, uncensored by his need to protect her. She began to see the depth of his self loathing, and followed this series of confessions to the true source of it. It was a tortuous path of failures, both real and perceived.

When he began to speak about the boys, while his description of that time was hazy out of necessity, she was still given insight into his view of the events.

She still remembered hearing the muffled explosion, and feeling the concussion travel up through her feet. Soon after, she'd found him standing next to the shattered array, looking shocked and lost, as he stared out across it.

She'd gone to him, worried one of their best possible defenses against the invaders had been injured, but the look of sorrow and helplessness on his face when he saw her, though quickly hidden, had frozen her.

His hands had been unconsciously clenched into fists at his sides, as he spoke to her in that regimented military tone, but they had opened instantly to catch her arms, as her knees buckled. They lowered her gently to the ground, when she would have fallen.

It still hurt, but somehow, despite his miraculous return, she had expected Ed to disappear again... Losing Al, on the other hand, was a shock she had been unprepared for.

Their last words were crushing. No goodbyes, just a 'thanks for the automail'... Like that was the sum total of her value to them... But he'd stayed there with her. When she'd felt the most abandoned, Roy had been the one person still standing beside her...

She hadn't been able to understand then, the anger that flashed in his eyes, or the clenching and unclenching of his fists, which had returned stiffly to his sides, once she'd been safely lowered to the hard packed earth. At the time she had thought it directed at the outworlders, or even her, but now she understood.

He had appointed himself her protector almost from the beginning... Like so many other bad things that had befallen her life, this too, he felt a sole responsibility for failing to prevent... And even though she believed there was nothing he could have done to change the boy's decision, the anger she saw, was directed at himself...

She knew now, that he felt the weight of it more than just as their commanding officer, and she began to regret more than ever, the numerous times she'd thrown those failures in his face. It was clear by how he and Harper's conversation ended, that he still truly believed she hated him. Yet still, with almost every action, he carefully weighed how his decision would effect her, and put her wellbeing above his own... When had Ed, whom she'd loved with all her heart, _ever_ done that...

Despite all these revelations, though, when he finally came to lie next to her, she could not bring herself to speak to him about it... Not yet. So instead, she feigned sleep, and listened to him shift restlessly until they both finally drifted off...

.o0o.

_ Struggling to catch himself, he'd stumbled when his foot slipped on some loose rock at the side of the downward sloping path... For a long moment, he'd thought he might go right over the edge, the irony of which, was not lost on him, even as he fought to regain his balance. Fortunately, he did not fall... _

_ Stepping carefully back from the precipice, he drew a few ragged breaths as he regained his composure. It had been some time since anything had managed to get his heart going quite like that. Looking down, he saw that his hands had begun to shake from it. He jammed them in his pockets, and began to whistle a light tune... His old fallback_... _But there was no one here to see it, his fear or his well practiced attempts to cover it. He couldn't help but laugh at his own wasted efforts. _

_ Then his mind registered something amiss. He felt around in his pockets, then cursed aloud as he remembered his wallet, still laying snug and safe, in his center desk drawer. He could certainly get it in the morning, but that meant he would be walking home tonight, instead of taking a cab, and the only thing keeping him from going back to his office now, was the fact that the walk back there wouldn't be any shorter than the walk home. _

_ He cursed again. At least he still had his knife on him, or this night might be a total loss. After all, this was only a trial run, and he wasn't so committed to it, that he'd risk infection using what ever was to hand down there... He continued on his way, shaking his head. _

_ Coming into sight of the array, he assessed the damage. Like an electrical circuit, an alchemic array needed to be continuous to function. At the time, he had created a small underground explosion in order to shatter it without causing any further damage to the city above. _

_ It had been a masterstroke, but now he cursed his own thoroughness. A lot of blood, sweat, and tears, would go into making it functional again, but mostly just blood... His._

.o0o.

He woke to the sensation of a weight on his chest. Even just a few nights ago, he probably would have struck at it, or jumped up to escape it. Despite the reputation he'd earned as a lady's man, he'd never let his companions remain through the night. With dreams too dark, and demons legion, the possible outcome had all been too frightening to contemplate, but now here she lay. It was funny how quickly one could grow accustomed to something so foreign...

Now, as suddenly as it had appeared, it slid away as she shifted again in her sleep. At least she wasn't in a fighting mood tonight... Being the subject of her enmity, both expressed and implied, was something he expected, maybe even welcomed, but something entirely unexpected had begun happening, since their very first full night here.

Though clearly, she seemed to like, and even trust, most of the men in this unit by the light of day, he supposed, in the dark of night, he took on the roll of the devil she knew. For each night, with out fail, when he laid down his makeshift bedroll, she laid hers down right beside. While on the first night, it had not been entirely voluntary, it had become a pattern that he found he was now quite comfortable with.

At times, it could be somewhat disconcerting, as her sleep was often restless. Sometimes she would begin to flail, almost as if she were drowning, and at other times, she would speak. It felt wrong to listen, a bit like pawing through another person's diary, but in the silence of the night, it was often impossible not to.

If her nocturnal monologues were to be believed, the dreams that accompanied these episodes could hardly be described as sweet. The first time it had happened, a few nights after they had arrived, he had awoken to her clutching at his shirt, like it was the last bit of drift wood on an otherwise empty ocean.

She had been calling out for Edward... As yet unaccustomed to these unexpected, but apparently not unusual nighttime occurrences, and not entirely awake himself, he had woken her with a shake, harshly informing her that he was 'not Ed'.

He'd regretted it almost instantly. Selfconscious, and embarrassed by her actions, she'd sat up the rest of the night, too ashamed to look him in the eye, even as he tried to convince her to go back to sleep. The next day had been pretty much the same, she'd barely spoken a word to him, and that night he'd had to reassure her, that he had only been startled, and it was alright if she wanted to sleep there...

The experience had taught him a valuable lesson in patience... And after that initial incident, he'd begun to come up with ways to calm her without having to wake her. This worked out better for them both in the long run.

Now he reached out, carefully straightening her blanket, as it had become tangled by her restless movements. Then, taking liberties he dare not even contemplate during her waking hours, he gently smoothed back the hair that had fallen into her face, and murmured quietly to her that she was safe, and all was well.

Gradually, her breathing slowed to a more normal resting pace, and she was still again. Sighing his relief, he laid back down, gazing at her now serene face, until he too, drifted back to sleep...

.o0o.

She bent, returning the dishes she had just finished cleaning, to the small pile of extraneous equipment the men had left behind. Breakfast, while hardly the most appetizing meal ever eaten, had been better than the alternative.

The men of the squad had set off shortly there after, like the dwarves from that story of old. Upon their departure, she'd set to work on the cleaning, a job she had assigned herself, for lack of anything else to do, and for which she was much appreciated.

Having applied the last of their water to the task at hand, she'd sent Mustang to refill the canteens, and with that in mind, she'd assumed the rustling behind her signaled his return. Surprised by how little time it had taken him, she turned to greet him, but instead found a strange man in unfamiliar uniform.

He leaned nonchalantly against the trunk of a tree at the edge of the clearing, and despite the extravagant detail of his uniform, it _and_ he, were dirty and disheveled.

That, combined with his failure to announce his presence, left her feeling rather uneasy, and there was just something sinister about the way he looked at her, that did nothing to quell her fears.

Hesitantly, she greeted him questioningly, but this only served to spread an even more sinister smile across his worrisome face.

In that instant, she knew what a rabbit must feel, just before it's pounced upon by a wolf... For that, she sensed, was exactly what he was. In the next instant, she was sprinting headlong toward the treeline. She swerved around the fire, and with a kick, upended the wash water into it, but did not let the action slow her pace. If she could just make it into the trees, she might have a prayer of evading him...

It seemed strangely silent in the clearing, just the sounds of her breathing and footfalls, as she charged on, counterpointed by those of the stranger, growing ever closer. She felt his fingers swipe through her hair, then graze across the fabric at the back of her shirt, his fingernails making a kind of hissing sound, as they scraped over the weave.

He'd missed her, and she dodged to the left, but a split second later, she wasn't so lucky. His hands clamped onto her upper arms cruelly, wrenching her to a stop, and slamming her back against his chest. Dazed and winded from the impact, she felt herself being dragged backward toward the fire, with him paying little mind to her initially weakened struggles.

After a moment, she shook off the confusion, and began to kick at him, but soon learned the error of her ways. Swiftly he adjusted his grip on her, an instant later a gun was digging painfully into her side.

"Mind your manners, Bitch." He rasped harshly, his lips too close to her ear. "And don't even think of screaming, you'll be dead before the echos die away."

He ground the barrel into her ribs, to emphasize his point. Having been silent up until this point, it took her a moment to realize, he wasn't speaking the same language as Carter's men... Moreover, he didn't seem to know, or even care, if she understood him or not. He let his body language do the talking, and it certainly spoke volumes.

"Food"

That one word, he ground out haltingly in the language of carters men, and gestured to the the empty cans and boxes that lay smoldering in the fire. He seemed, now, to think she didn't understand him, so she decided to play along with that notion. If she could keep him busy long enough, keep him talking, she might just buy herself enough time, for someone to come... Then, in turn, they might have enough time to do more than simply give her a proper burial, after this monster was done with her...

Shaking her head, she looked up at him, schooling a look of confusion onto her terrified features. He grumbled, and cursed her stupidity in his own language, then rewarded her for it, with another hard jab of the gun barrel to her side. She gasped in pain, as it pressed into the same spot, already bruising deeply from his previous 'statements'.

"FOOD!" He repeated again, more loudly, then to this, he impatiently added. "Where!"

Hand shaking, she hesitantly pointed in the general direction of the pack where she and mustang had been storing their rations, as the men of the squad usually kept theirs with them. Suddenly, without warning, he shoved her in the direction she'd indicated. Caught off guard by this action, she stumbled forward a few steps, trying to check her momentum, but ultimately was unable to. Tumbling onto her side, she slid to a stop, laying prone on the hard packed dirt.

As she recovered from the fall, he began to spit more demands that she get the food for him, in his own language. Glancing back, she saw he'd remained where he was, and had begun gesturing wildly with one hand, in the direction she had pointed.

With a strange sense of calm, she noted that his other hand, the one that held the gun, remained perfectly steady, and still pointed at her. Hastily she scrambled to her knees, and pulled the pack that held the rations to her.

Lifting the top flap, she began to reach inside, but as she did, she heard his footsteps advance in a rush. An instant later, she felt a terrible pain in her scalp, as he grabbed her up by a fist full of hair, and slammed her onto her back. In the next instant, the pack was wrenched from her grip.

He was standing over her, and as she stared up at him from the ground, for the second time in less than a minute, she knew that he was going to kill her. For a moment she almost squeezed her eyes shut, to wait for the inevitable, but then that defiant part of of her soul rebelled.

She decided, that if he was going to kill her, he was going to have to look her in the eye when he did it. With that conviction in her heart, she stared angrily back up at him... This time, he was the one to blink.

With his free hand, he held the pack by it's top flap, and as he lifted the opening to eye level, he chanced a glance inside.

"Well, you're not as stupid as I thought" He muttered loudly.

Relaxing, but only slightly, he tossed the bag over near the treeline, and indicated she should stand. She continued to glare at him, until he again took hold of her arm. Forcing her to turn, he held her in front of him as before.

He guided her forward, and in doing so, believing she could not understand him, he began to say the most outlandish and disturbing things she had ever heard, and she had heard a great deal. She cringed in fear and disgust, as his lips brushed the back of her ear, and he began to whisper the horrifying details of his intentions for her.

She was finding it harder and harder, not to react directly, to what he was saying. Thanks to the fire having been partially doused by the wash water, the clearing had gone quite foggy, and since her concentration was on not giving herself away, she did not notice anything amiss until the strangers grip went tight, pulling her back against him.

It was not the most relieved she'd ever been in her life, to see someone... That place was still reserved for when Ed had saved her from Barry the Chopper... But when Roy materialized from the mist, she noted that it did rate a very close second, and gave her the first sense of hope she'd had, since this monster had gotten his hands on her...

She heard her captor utter yet another snide remark, and felt his foul breath roll past her ear, as he burrowed the gun deeper into that tender spot he'd created...

Up until this point, she'd only been holding it together through sheer force of will. Then finally, after all the pain and fear she had experienced in the last few minutes, she knew one thing for certain... And it was that she didn't want to die. Especially not at the hands of this cruel stranger... It wasn't just an impulse, or some outdated animal instinct, she _truly_ wanted to _live_, more than she had in a very, very long time... But she couldn't do it alone, and she couldn't keep waiting around, ignoring the help that stood so plainly before her... In that moment what little resolve she had left to keep her distance from him, finally faltered and broke... She cried out to Roy for help.

.o0o.

He should have known better than to leave her alone, but he'd allowed him self to be lulled into a false sense of security, by the relative peace in their little patch of the world. After the squad had left that morning, he'd foolishly gone off to fill their canteens in the near by stream, and returned to find a ragged man in a filthy gray uniform, half mad and pressing a gun into her side.

When he'd first heard the strange voice coming from the clearing, he had assumed that one of the squad had left something behind, and returned for it. As he had drawn closer, he'd realized, in a sickening flash of panic, that the voice was not at all familiar, and though he could understand most of what it was saying, it wasn't even speaking the same language Carter's men did.

Under a heavy mantle of dread, he drew the pistol from his waistband, their canteens forgotten beside the path. Steam rose thickly from where the wash water had overturned into the fire, presumably, during her initial attempts to flee... The sheer mass of it in the chill morning air, had shrouded the clearing in a fog, and allowed him to approach largely unnoticed

"What a pretty thing you are..." The strange man was saying, as Mustang stepped from the trees "Far to perfect to associate with such filth..."

Noticing the newcomer, he pulled her to his chest like a shield.

"Well, well, here's one of your suitors now..." He growled , Dragging her closer still.

He dug the muzzle of the gun into her side until she whimpered in pain, then he bowed his head letting his lips come to rest just behind her ear.

"I really don't understand what you see in him. Only a whore would sully such perfect blood, with filth such as he."

His voice was silken and dangerous, as he extended his tongue like a viper, to stroke the edge of her ear. She shuddered in revulsion, her eyes full of fear and pleading.

"Roy, please help me..."

Barely above a whisper, her voice shook with terror. The man's thin sharp face, disturbingly calm until now, grew livid.

"_BLOOD TRAITOR! I try to save you from your mistake, and yet you ask HIS protection from ME!_"

His fingers ground viciously into her arm, making her cry out. Roy thought his heart might stop.

"LET HER GO!" He screamed in desperation.

"Don't you bark orders at me, you dog, I _know_ what you're trying to do..." He hissed, his pale eyes now veritably blazing with madness. "you see the Furor's perfect plan, and it terrifies you, so you try to sabotage it any way you can... But you can't stop us, _No one_ can, we _will_ claim our destiny"

Single minded hatred, plain on his face. Mustang grasped at straws...

"If you release her, I will let you go free. I wont tell anyone you were here, or make any attempts to capture you. You have my word on that."

But the man just laughed. It was a cruel, harsh noise that grated in Roy's ears.

"_**No!**_ What good is the word of a dog, _to me?_!" He spat. "You are all just a disease... A blight to be eradicated. Kill me if you can, but I _will not_ allow you to further degrade our bloodline, _even if I have to kill her to stop you!_"

He flashed a predatory smile, as the nonsensical rhetoric poured from his lips.

That the man was hiding behind Winry, made it difficult enough to get a lock on him, but add to that the jerky movements he made as he spoke, and it was all but impossible. Perhaps a top marksman like Riza, might have been able to pull off a shot like that, but he was no Hawkeye, and the stakes were far to high to chance it. The only option he saw left to him, was to cover the man, and pray for some kind of miracle, but at present, he couldn't see any kind of positive outcome to this standoff.

The stalemate drew on in silence for a few moments, then the man spoke again.

"Hmm...Something occurs to me" He said in an unnaturally calm, introspective tone. "Traveling with you, as she has, it is likely her blood has already been defiled..."

His face took on a mask of false regret.

"...And if so, she'll have to be disposed of... Such a pity." The mask dissolved."But that doesn't mean I can't have a little fun" He growled as a feral, lupine smile replaced it.

"Decisions, decisions... Should I kill you now..." He glared at Mustang for a moment, then raised the pistol to stroke her cheek slowly with the barrel. "Or, let you watch?..."

He seemed to considered it for a moment, that wicked, predatory grin still plastered across his face. Then he sighed ruefully.

"As appealing as the latter sounds..." Sounding sincerely regretful this time, he took aim at Mustang. "I think I'll kill you first."

This last statement brought a shriek of protest, and her elbow back hard into his ribs. Cursing, he threw her to the ground, finally giving Mustang a clear shot, but in the split second the man was distracted, Mustang hesitated... Try as he might, he could not make his finger squeeze the trigger, and the advantage was lost. The man again raised his gun, taking aim. In a moment he would be dead, and she at his mercy, would likely follow soon after, all because of his hesitation.

Then a flicker of movement off to the left, caught his attention. Before his brain could even process it, an olive-brown blur plowed into the man before him. Harper's momentum carried them to the ground.

.o0o.

Harper hadn't expected the man to recover so quickly, considering the force with which he'd tackled him. So when they slid to a stop, he'd hauled back with the intention of belting the guy full force. Much to his dismay, a maniacal grin graced the intruder's face, as he thrust the gun into Harper's. Out of instinct, he'd flinched back, squeezing his eyes shut. Knowing even as he did, that it would do him no good. The action could not protect him from a bullet.

Somewhere be hind him, Winry screamed. Then a shot rang out.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

_**A/N**_: _It's finally out. __ I had planned to release this on Thanksgiving, or at least by the end of November, and __I truly have no excuses for being late, other than the fact that I just could not get motivated for the proofreading phase, so thank you for your patience. _

_A special thanks to __ **xxdarknessxfallsxx **and **camudekyu **for reviewing the last chapter, as well as a thankyou to the rest of you who have reviewed in the past._

_and finally, much thanks, as always to my spectacular betareader and story adviser, **ZonkieTheGreat**._

_**Please R&R!**  
><em>

xxdarknessxfallsxx


	5. Chapter 5: So Close

_Happy holidays to all, whichever holiday you happen to celebrate this December. This extra long chapter is my gift to you, I hope you all enjoy it! _

_A big thank you to **xxdarknessxfallsxx**, **mebh**, and **camudeku **for your lovely reviews! Keep 'em comin' they make my day! _

_...And as always, a warm and special thanks to beta reader and story advisor extraordinar, **ZonkieTheGreat!** She has a new chapter of '**An Alchemic Reaction**' up, so if you haven't already, go read it!_

.o0o.o0o.o0o..o0o.o0o.

_**Chapter 5**_

_**So Close**_

Harper sat frozen like that for several seconds, before realizing the shot had not hit him. Opening his eyes, he found that the man beneath him lay dead. His empty eyes were still open, and on his lips, remained the last vestiges of that grin, Harper had fully expected, to be the last thing he ever saw. A small clean hole in the right side of his forehead, was clearly the cause of death, and a glance over his right shoulder, left no doubt as to where the bullet had come from...

.o0o.

Lazily, a ribbon of smoke curled from the barrel of Mustang's borrowed pistol. He drew a shuddering breath, then his arms fell to his sides, gun hanging precariously from his lax grip. A moment later his knees gave way, and he sat with an unceremonious thump.

"I couldn't let it happen, not again..." He whispered.

A vision of Maes, laying pale and so still, drifted unbidden through his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut, and shook his head, in an attempt to eradicate it.

"You speak German."

Confusion clouded Mustang's already shock addled mind, and he felt his eyebrows draw together in an outward display of it. What a strange thing for a man who'd just nearly had his head blown off, to say...

"You understood what he said to you, you spoke to him..."

Still intensely confused by the line this conversation (if you could call it that) was taking, Mustang could only nod...

Motion at the edge of his vision finally drew his gaze away from the young man who's life he'd just saved.

_ Winry. _

How could he have forgotten... Not trusting his legs to hold him, he crawled to her, leaving the gun behind.

"Are you alright?" He asked gently, lifting her face in his hands.

Her eyes were wide and glassy, as she nodded. She was hugging her knees, and had unconsciously begun to rock slightly back and forth. He settled next to her, and rested his hand between her shoulder blades, in what he hoped was a comforting manner. She was trembling.

"I'm sorry Winry, this was my fault. I never should have left you alone..."

Winry was starring out and down, at nothing in particular. Then she took a shuddering breath, and began to speak...

"I thought he was you at first... I heard someone behind me, and I thought it was you... I tried to run..."

Sounding very far away, she looked down.

"You did good, Winry..." Said Harper, who had risen unnoticed, and was now standing over them.

Mustang's head was beginning to clear, and suddenly the obvious question struck him.

"Harper what are you doing here?"

He gave a weak smile, and shrugged.

"I saw the signal" He said mysteriously, plopping down on the other side of Winry.

Mustang felt his hard won clarity slip back into the fog of confusion.

"Signal?"

Harper gestured vaguely in the general direction of the fire.

"The Steam... I told Winry, if she ever got into trouble up here while we were gone, to douse the fire. Then, if we saw steam, we'd know something was wrong..."

In seeming response to this exchange, Winry began to speak again.

"When I turned around and saw him standing there, I ran, but then I saw the wash water sitting there, and I remembered what Harper had said, so I kicked it into the fire. I guess it was a good thing too, 'cause he was fast. I didn't even make it out of the clearing, before he caught me... The things he was saying,... He was going to..."

She fell silent for a moment, looking at the ground, as a strong tremor went through her. Absently, he began to rub circles between her shoulder blades, in an attempt to comfort her from the memory of the ordeal. Suddenly she turned to him, eyes intense.

"Then you came..."

He stiffened, drawing his hand away, unsure if it was in anger or gratitude. Unaware of his worry, she leaned against his shoulder, drew a shaky breath, and closed her eyes.

"I was so relieved when I saw you step out of those trees" Her voice was barely audible, but grateful, and sincere.

Warily, haltingly, he allowed the arm that had been rubbing her back, to drape itself around her shoulders. She didn't tense, or move away from the contact, instead she moved into it, letting her head droop until it rested on his shoulder. So finally he allowed himself to release the breath, he suddenly realized he'd been holding, and forced his body to relax. After a few minutes her trembling began to subside.

To his credit, Harper had seen the look of surprised awe on Mustang's face, and had, with only the slightest of self satisfied smirks, developed a sudden, rapt fascination with the moss on a tree across the clearing. Mustang, for his part, quietly sat there, holding her, comforting her, until, after a while, she gently pulled away with a sigh.

The situation reminded him of their encounter beside the array three years ago, yet another painful experience he'd failed to prevent... He bowed his head, and unbidden, felt the words spill from his lips, the ones that crossed his mind a thousand times a day, because he had always been better at picking up the pieces than catching them before they broke

"This was my fault, I'm sorry I failed you"

Incredulous, Harper's mouth fell open, preparing to remind Mustang that his shot was the only reason he was still breathing, but Winry spoke before he could give voice to that thought. Putting a hand on his knee to draw his attention.

"Sometimes, when bad things happen, Roy, they just happen. They aren't anyone's fault-" She said quietly, looking at him with serious eyes, but he cut her off.

"I left you alone, Winry! I should have known better, but I walked right out of camp, and left you here for him to do as he pleased... And when I finally get a shot, I hesitate... I could have _ended_ it, but I hesitated! Don't you see? If Harper hadn't come along, I would be dead and you would be at that bastard's mercy..."

"_I_ sent you off to get water, Roy, and when did you have a shot? He spent most of his time hiding behind me, and when he threw me down, Harper tackled him... If you'd fired then, you might have hit him instead. You did what you could, Roy... You took the shot when you needed to, and we're all alive and safe because of it... That's the only thing that matters."

He wished, for all the world, that he could believe that, but he couldn't. The only thing he was thankful for, was that it hadn't happened again, though for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why it had...

Opting to stay quiet, Harper stood and went to check over the dead intruder's body. He found little other than the gun, and the man's dog tag, which he snapped in half.

"Even bastards like you have a mother..." He muttered, then put the other half in his own pocket, before covering the body with one of the blankets.

His task finished, he walked over to where Mustang was still sitting.

"I have to get back. I didn't have permission to leave in the first place, but I think Carter'll understand, once I explain what happened..."

He handed Roy the dead man's pistol.

"Something has to be done with the body, or it'll start to draw animals... I'll try to send one or two of the boys back up here to help, if we can spare them, but I need you to start the grave, in case we can't. Can you do that?" He asked, looking apologetic.

Mustang nodded mutely, then rose to his feet, and followed Harper to the small pile of supplies the men had left in camp to lighten their load. After rooting through it for a moment, Harper produced a small folding shovel, and handed it to him, then glanced over at the lifeless form shrouded by the blanket,

"Sorry to have to leave you with this," Harper said contritely. "I'll send someone as soon as I can..."

Then with a nod to Winry, he hurried out of the camp.

Mustang watched after him for a moment, then glanced back at the body.

_ Might as well get started..._

He could hardly dig the grave here in camp, so he was going to have to move the body. He figured the best way to do that, was to wrap it in the blanket, and drag it to a better location.

He neither expected, nor wanted Winry's help with this particular operation, so he sent her to retrieve the canteens. He knew it would take her a minute to locate where he'd dropped them, and she wouldn't be entirely out of sight along that part of the trail, which made him feel more comfortable about having her do it. So as soon as she was out of the clearing, he rolled the body over, so that it was now laying on top of the blanket that had been covering it.

The action gave him a good look at his own handiwork. The man's face had been clean, but the back of his head was nothing but a sticky, soft, black-red crater. Because of his hesitation, it'd almost been Harper laying there.

_ It was so close_...

Shaking his head, he tried to force that thought from his mind, as he kicked dust over the large pool of blood and brain matter that had collected under the body. Satisfied that it was sufficiently covered, he flipped the remainder of the blanket over the body, to obscure it from view. A moment later, Winry returned, both canteens in hand.

Without a word, he grasped the corners of the blanket, and gave it an experimental tug. Satisfied that it would hold, he gently lowered it back to the ground. She had stopped at the edge of camp

"What are you doing?"

Her tone, a bit more timid than usual, unnerved him. He straightened. and walked towards the pile of supplies.

"Getting ready to bury him" He answered in a quiet, matter-of-fact voice, as he began to fish through the pile.

"Do you want me to help?"

He shook his head, as he found what he was looking for and drew the small bundle out, then walked back to where he'd left Carter's pistol, and crouched to pick it up.

"Do I have to stay here?" She said in a voice, suddenly too small and frightened.

He stood and turned, again shaking his head .

"No" He said, as he walked to her, holding out the bundle and Carter's pistol for her to take "I won't leave you alone again."

Taking them. she gave him a curious look.

"What is this for?" She said, holding up the bundle.

"It's going to take me a while to dig the grave, I thought you would like something to keep you busy..."

Her eyebrows drew together, but before she could ask any further questions, he turned and walked back to the body, so she followed. He reached down, taking the corners of the blanket, then indicated she should lead the way

"Where do you want to go?"

He nodded his head in the direction Harper had gone.

"Edge of the tree line, the roots won't be as bad there"

With out another word, she walked ahead of him in the direction of the field. They reached it quickly, despite his burden, and she took a seat on the trunk of a fallen tree he'd pointed out, once they found a suitable location.

He unfolded the shovel, and began his task. She, in turn, unrolled the bundle he'd given her back in camp... It was a gun cleaning kit. She was about to ask him how they were supposed to defend themselves, if she dismantled the pistol, but then spotted the dead man's gun, tucked into Mustang's waistband, so instead, she set to work.

.o0o.

The ground was hard, and the going was slow, but Mustang didn't mind. It helped keep his mind off of the thing laying to the left of him, that used to be a man, and who that man had nearly been... It was nearly an hour before Hanson appeared.

"So it's true..." Hanson said quietly, as he stole a quick glance under the blanket. "Must'a been one of the guards"

Mustang gave him a grim nod. At this point he was nearly done, so quietly, he suggested that Hanson take Winry back to camp, while he finished up. Hanson gave no argument, and was about to do just that, when they first heard the faint rumble of engines.

They turned just in time to see a jeep crest the top of a ridge in the distance. It was followed by an identical looking jeep, and two canvas covered trucks, each emblazoned with a red cross on a field of white.

"Well it's about fuckin' time." Hanson muttered.

Then, glancing back at Mustang, he jerked his head in the direction of the field.

"Leave that fer now and follow me, you too Winry... An' hand me that pistol, don't want anyone gettin' the wrong idea..."

As Mustang climbed out of the trench he'd spent the better part of the last hour digging, Winry walked over to Hanson, holding out both the freshly cleaned pistol and the cleaning kit. He grinned and shook his head, as he took the gun and indicated she should leave the kit there

"Carter won' even recognize it..." He said, looking the weapon over. "Where'd you learn to do that so good?"

Winry, glowing at the praise, shot Mustang a meaningful glance, then answered simply.

"Hawkeye"

He felt the corner of his lips curl into a half smile.

_ Should have known..._

Hanson gave her a quizzical look, but when she did not elaborate, he shrugged and let it lay.

Without another word, he turned and headed off across the field, with the unspoken, but clearly implied intention, to intercept the small convoy. They followed quickly after him, but after a few steps Mustang remembered the other pistol tucked into the back of his waistband.

Quickening his pace to catch up with Hanson, who was a few strides ahead of him, he pressed the dead man's gun into his hands. Hanson stopped short, giving him a bewildered look.

"Where'd this come from?" He asked, his bewilderment tempered by the slightest hint of suspicion.

"It was the guard's," Mustang said, nodding in the direction of the corpse behind them. "Harper told me to hang onto it, that's why I let Winry take Carter's apart..."

The suspicion lingered in Hanson's eyes a moment longer, but seeing no deception in Mustangs face, it drained away.

"Oh..." Shrugging again, he muttered "Everyone's entitled to a souvenir, I guess..."

He put it with the one he'd taken from Winry.

"OK, let's go"

Together, they trudged across the field. Hanson held up a hand, as the convoy drew near, it came to a lumbering stop at the top of the hill.

"What I can do for you, Corporal-?" An older man in the passenger seat of the lead jeep said, as they got close enough for him to be heard over the engines.

"Hanson, Sir" He said saluting the man "Would I be correct in assumin' that you're our relief?" Hanson continued, after the man had returned the salute.

"You with Carter's squad?"

Hanson nodded.

"Well then, that we are, son, that we are... How far to the camp?"

"Just over that ridge" Hanson said, jerking his head to indicate the direction.

As the exchange continued, Mustang noted that the man's uniform was almost pristine, and neatly pressed, despite the presumably long trek by jeep. It showed none of the fading or wear he would have expected... In fact, it seemed almost as if the man only wore it on special occasions, though this occasion hardly seemed to merit that description.

"Been any sign of the guards?" The man asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"Just one sir" Hanson answered.

"SS?"

Hanson gave a sharp nod to the affirmative.

"And where is he?" The man asked, looking eagerly about, as though he expected to spot the villain in the general vicinity

"Dead sir, killed this morning" He said, indicating the direction of the grave with a finger.

Hanson's answer seemed to deflate the man a bit, as he noted unfinished grave, and shrouded form laying beside it, there near the treeline.

"And who do we have to thank for that?"

Hanson stepped back and looked to Mustang.

"What's this now, a civilian?" The man said, glancing quickly to Mustang, then quizzically at Hanson, who shrugged then elaborated.

"Mustang's kind of a special case, you'll have have to ask Carter..."

Seemingly reinvigorated, the man echoed the shrug, then piped up.

"Well, be that as it may, congratulations are in order... maybe even a reward!"

Mustang felt his stomach twist, as the man smiled, and took his hand, shaking it with gusto.

"I had no choice, he would have killed-"

Shaking his head, the man cut him off.

"There's no need for explanations, my boy..." He all but shouted. "In my book the only good Nazi's a _dead _Nazi."

Mustang felt sick. While he knew he had been justified in killing the guard, this man's demeanor reminded him just a little to much, of another such as he, in another place and time... and killings that had been far less justified. Either not noticing, or more likely, plainly disregarding Mustangs discomfort, the man returned his attention to Hanson.

"So, where can I find this Carter?"

Once more looking expectantly about.

"At the camp sir" Hanson replied, the slightest touch of exasperation coloring his voice, as he jerked his head in the appropriate direction.

"Very good, soldier, carry on." The man said, tapping the dash twice, then as Hanson stepped back, the convoy rumbled back to life.

Setting a somewhat brisk pace, they started back toward the treeline with Hanson in the lead, after the last truck had passed, Mustang and Winry in close pursuit. A few steps on, he looked back toward the convoy slowly lumbering out of sight, and began to shake his head.

"War must be just about over, if one of them is willing to come out in the field..." He muttered, more to himself, than to them, but Winry's curiosity was piqued.

"Them?" She asked.

Not stopping, he glanced back at her, one eyebrow cocked.

"Pencil pushers" He answered, grinning impishly. "...That, my dear lady," He elaborated, gesturing in the direction of the vanishing convoy. "...Was a dyed in the wool bureaucrat... All propaganda, no sense."

He punctuated the remark by rapping the side of his head with the knuckles of his free hand, to illustrate his meaning. Then, turning back to the treeline, he added under his breath.

"Heard nothin' short of an all out truce, could drag them from their cozy desk chairs..."

It had been barely loud enough for Mustang to hear, but it made him smile... For though his final assignment as an adviser to the new government, had involved a fair amount of administrative paperwork, he'd never developed an appreciation for it.

Given a choice of the office or the field, he'd always chosen the field, sometimes to the point of near dereliction of duty. And while the long suffering Riza Hawkeye had, more than once, berated him for it, he knew deep down, she'd respected him for it more...

He'd begun to smile at the thought of her, but then caught him self. She was lost to him now... It all was, his plans, his friends, his life... He'd finally gone far enough afield, that returning now was unlikely. Riza was just another addition to the list of regrets that paved his path through life...

.o0o.

He was coming undone... He'd been doing his level best to keep it together, for her sake, but he was beginning to unravel.

Nearly getting both Winry, and Harper killed...

The scent that drifted towards them every time the wind shifted to the northwest, keeping memories best left buried, close to the surface...

Her understandably mercurial mood swings...

The loss of his power...

The supreme screw up that had left her, the very one he'd been trying to save, trapped here in mortal danger...

Each in their turn, glommed on, some redundantly, to that same old ugly but familiar, lump of hopelessness, horror, and despair. It was growing, unchecked, toward critical mass in the dark pit that used to be his soul, and it lacked only a trigger... Some comment, or action that might not ordinarily have bothered him to such a degree.

In the current context, though, it would become the flashpoint of a hell worthy firestorm within his mind... And it would, without mercy, vaporize every mask, every defense, the entirety of his carefully kept veneer of wellbeing, to reveal the empty, shattered remains of his true self...

That trigger came in the form of a relatively innocent and understandable comment made by one of the men...

It was later that evening, and the topic of conversation after dinner, had naturally turned to the morning's intruder.

"I say he got what was comin' to him... Men, women, children, they slaughter them all with out remorse. Poisoning them with gas, or even burning them alive... Then when we catch the cowardly bastards, they have the nerve to say, it isn't their fault, they were 'just following orders'!"

Those words echoed bitterly in Roy's skull, louder and louder, ricocheting around until they had completely shattered his carefully cultivated self control... He felt he bile rising in his throat, threatening to overflow.

Blindly, he shot to his feet, and stumbled off into the trees. He wasn't sure how far he'd gotten before the urge overtook him. He doubled over convulsively, and with one hand braced against the gnarled foot of an ancient oak, vomited. Again and again, his body heaved violently, unable to stop until long after everything was gone.

Gasping, he tried to straighten and walk, but only made it two or three steps before he faltered, collapsing onto his side, and curling in on himself. He was sobbing, he realized, but it didn't really seem to matter, as he saw the events of that night play out in his mind's eye again and again. Their faces swam before him, angry and accusing. he wanted to beg their forgiveness, but knew he could never be worthy of it.

Out of habit, his body cried out for even the slightest drop of the amber poison that kept them at bay on the worst nights. Maes had been the one to call it that, insisting it was just another attempt at suicide... And he hadn't felt it's absence, as keenly as he did now, since his friend had been killed... But he knew, as much then, as now, just a drop would never suffice, not even after all these years.

Then she was there. The sadness and concern plain on her face, was painful to him. He looked away in shame... He wasn't worthy of that either

.o0o.

Initially, she'd assumed he just needed a moment alone... Then she'd heard him retch. Concerned, her head shot up and she glanced around at the men around the fire, sure they'd heard it too.

They'd all gone silent, and none but Harper would even meet her eye, but even though he gave her a look of sympathy, nothing in his actions indicated he'd do anything more. Though it made no sense at all to her, they all seemed equally intent to pretend nothing had happened and act accordingly.

In that instant, her mind was made up... Standing, she quickly gathered a few things, then set off into the woods. She knew she was probably the last person he needed to see right then, but he had been there for her when she needed him, and she'd be damned if she was going to turn her back and leave him out there alone.

It took her some time to find him in the dark, even though she'd seen what direction he'd gone, and it was a sorry state he was in, when she finally managed to track him down...

.o0o.

"You shouldn't worry about me, Winry, I'm not worth it. Go back to camp." He muttered almost angrily.

She didn't heed, instead she reached out.

He cringed, some small part of his mind, certain her touch would surly burn him...

Taking hold of his shoulder, she helped pull him into a sitting position, then drew back for a moment, before crouching down in front of him, holding out a rag and her canteen.

He forced himself to look at her, as he took them. Expecting, and perhaps even hoping to find the hatred, anger, or bitterness he deserved, in her eyes. Instead, she met his gaze with only a look of sorrowful concern.

He dropped his gaze, and wiped his mouth before taking a few sips of cool water. That helped to wash away the acidic bitterness that permeated his mouth, as he regained a bit of his composure. With a clean portion of the rag, he wiped the lip of the canteen, then recapped it and handed it back to her.

"Thank you" He said quietly, chancing another quick glance at her face.

The sadness and worry still marred it.

"Head on back to camp, Winry it's getting cold. Don't worry about me, I'll be alright"

She didn't move.

Her gaze was unwavering, and made him feel skinless, yet it held no questions or expectations.

"You think about them a lot..." She stated quietly, with a sadness in her tone.

.o0o.

_Hollow... _That was the only way she could have described the sight, when she found him, and it left her with a most deep seated feelings of guilt. Yes, he'd hurt her first, but she was equally guilty of hurting him, more so, honestly... _She _was the one who had done this to him...

.o0o.

Her eyes had gone shiny with unshed tears, but still no questions or expectations waited in them. From a dark, deep place inside, he felt something long buried, splinter and give way. Then the memories, and sorrow, and regret were surging outward, swirling into every corner, threatening to drown him, but he did not resist.

Realizing that the cold, uncaring facade he affected, simply for the sake of survival, had surly led her to believe his actions didn't bother him.

_Nothing could be farther from the truth..._

That he regretted what he had done... That, while their killer still walked free, he had not gone unpunished... These were things she deserved, and possibly even needed to know... It was her right, and his conscience demanded it.

In a painfully ragged voice, he answered.

"Every hour of every day,..."

.o0o.

_She_ was his demon. It was their faces he saw, but she had been the one to torment him, and he had excepted with grateful, quiet composure, every slice, stab, and strike she deigned to dole out. Until now, never letting on how deep the cracks went or how wide they had become... Even when they'd reached his very foundations...

.o0o.

He swallowed in an attempt to relieve some of the tightness in his throat.

"I'm so sorry, Winry... I wish I could undo it, I'd give anything to bring them back to you, lord knows I tried..."

She winced at this, clearly understanding the implications.

"But I can't bring them back... I was too naive to refuse, when I knew in my heart it was wrong, and too cowardly to take my own life, when that, at least, might have brought you some justice..."

In despair, his voice trailed off. His gaze fell away, as he took a few fortifying breaths.

"There _is_ one thing I want you to know..."

He took a deep breath, summoning with it, the courage to tell her.

"I want you to know the truth about what happened that night..."

She looked away from him for the first time since this encounter had begun, and it almost made him lose his nerve, but he persevered, knowing this might well be his only chance to tell her.

"I didn't burn them... That I killed them, is a burden I will bear for the rest of my life, but I need you to know they didn't suffer..."

She was silent, and so still she seemed carved from stone. Then a single tear began to make its way down her cheek, and he finally found the courage to ask the question, whose answer he feared the most...

"Do you hate me, Winry?"

"No"

"Why not?"

.o0o.

It was absurd and disturbing, really, the macabre joy they'd both drawn from this sadomasochistic dance. Now, though, she barely recognized the person she'd been, even a few days ago.

The ease with which she'd been able to forget the good in him, and the wanton, spiteful, cruelty displayed therein, were frightening... It was a masterpiece of her own angered self indulgence, and occasional, though it might have been, it sickened her now. Her parents would be ashamed.

In her sorrow, she felt what remained of her anger towards him, drain away. He was not the only one who was in need of making amends. It was time to give him what he needed most, but would never ask for...

.o0o.

For a long time she was silent, and he'd begun to think she wouldn't answer at all, then she began to speak.

"Because it benefits no one." She looked up into his eyes. "The truth is rarely ever black and white... I _was_ angry at you, so very angry... And, for a very long time, I thought I did hate you, but I'm not six anymore, and age brings to light things a child just can't see..."

This time, it was he who turned away, unable to take the scorch of her burning eyes anymore.

"I murdered them." He whispered.

"No," Her voice quiet, but bitter. "The _military_ murdered my parents, _you_ just happened to the instrument they used to do it"

He bowed his head in anguish.

"_Following orders does not make me innocent!_" He cried, his face full of agonized self contempt.

She drew closer to him now. Placing a hand on his chest, she looked up into his shadowed face. Hers held a sad smile, but her eyes were intense.

"_No it doesn't_, but my parents would still be dead... They were warned what the consequences would be, but they wouldn't stop, _couldn't_ stop, because they took an oath to end suffering when ever possible, where ever they found it. That principal was more important to them, than life it self... More important even, than me..."

There was a touch of bitterness, that marred the sorrow on her, now tear soaked, face, and she drew a long shuddering breath, before continuing.

"The hardest thing to come to grips with, was that if it hadn't been you it, _would have_ been someone else... Who knows if that person could have done what you've done... Who knows if they would have cared enough to even try...?"

Now, reaching forward, she cupped his face in both hands, forcing him to meet her eyes. He wasn't sure what he had expected to find there, but he saw only a soft sincerity.

"_But you did care_...You made it right. You made them answer for their crimes, not just for what they did to my parents, but for what happened in Ishbal, and Lior too... You made sure that the deaths weren't in vain..." She stroked his cheek with her thumb, then gave a weak smile. "That was justice enough for me"

This last, came almost as a whisper, then her eyes took on a new intensity.

"You're not a bad person, Roy. It might have been easier for me, if you were, but you're not... You're a good man who was forced to make a terrible choice, but I know now that you felt no malice toward them... It is truly the hardest thing I've ever done, but the choices you made afterward, are what made me able to forgive you... Anything less, would be an affront to their memory... And I believe in my heart, that they would have forgiven you too... So please stop torturing yourself, it's not what they would have wanted"

She drew his face to hers. Placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, she looked deeply into his eyes

"I forgive you Roy, you repaid your debt... Its time you forgave your self..."

But he didn't know if he was ready, or even capable of accepting her forgiveness, let alone forgiving him self. Gently he pulled away from her.

"I didn't mean to drag you here with me..."

He lifted his eyes to meet hers, the look in them painfully genuine.

"I was trying to get Ed and Al back, I only wanted you to be happy again, but it seems I'm destined to hurt you, no matter what my intentions... I know nothing I say will ever really make up for what's happened, but I'll get you home, I swear. For once I'm not going to fail you... Not this time... " His voice trailed off. Clenching his jaw, he looked away, unable to bear her gaze any longer.

Suddenly, she surged forward, twining her arms around him. For a moment, he stiffened, not sure how to react. This, was quite literally, the last thing he had expected. Then, with a groan, he surrendered. Clutching her to him, like a man drowning, he buried his face in her hair.

"I am so very, very sorry..." He murmured into it.

"I know" Came her soft, sad,voice. It carried no anger.

They stayed like that for a long time, not moving, not speaking, then, finally she began to shiver. Reluctantly, he pulled away from her.

"You should go back" He said gently. "It's getting cold, and I know you're tired."

After a moment, she nodded and stood, but instead of walking back toward camp, she held out her hand to him.

"Only if you come back with me."

The look in her eyes left no room for argument, so reluctantly he nodded. Taking her hand, he rose shakily to his feet...

.o0o.

"Mustang?" Harper softly inquired.

They hadn't spoken since sundown, when he and the rest of the men, aside from Carter, had returned to camp. Now, as the fire died, it was down to just he and Harper again.

"What was he saying this morning?"

Mustang looked down. Inwardly, he was relieved that the subject of discussion, was not his recent foray into the woods. The few who had been awake when they returned, had abjectly ignored the incident, seeming to assume that his show of weakness had been due, in some way, to the discussion about the camp on the other side of the hill... Though that was not entirely correct, he had gladly let it stand, but he still wasn't feeling particularly social after what had happened. He answered only because he did not wish to be rude.

Staring into the fire for a long moment, Mustang finally laid out a brief summary of the madman's words. When he had finished, Harper gave a low whistle, then after digesting it for a moment, he pinned Mustang with a sage look, and said quietly...

"You almost lost her this morning, how long will you wait to tell her how you feel about her...?"

Mustang gave a sarcastic grunt, that fell somewhere between a laugh and a growl.

"Forever."

Harper, for his part, released a sigh, but refused to let up.

"You are a fool then... And mores the pity, because she feels the same way about you..."

Mustang gave a disgruntled laugh.

"You sound like Maes, always badgering me to settle down..."

Harper shook his head, and smiled.

"This Maes sounds like a wise man... Honestly, you don't know what your missing... My wife is the best thing that ever happened to me... And then there's our little girl... She's almost two now, smart as a whip and cute as a button... Hey, you wanna see a picture?"

Harper's face resembled that of an excited puppy, but instead of finding it humorous, Mustang felt his heart give an unexpected twist at the familiarity of it... It must have shown on his face, because Harper suddenly looked concerned, then began to back peddle.

"What's wrong? You don't have to look if you don't want to, I know it can be annoy-"

Mustang held up a hand to stop him.

"It's alright Harper," He said, flashing a weak smile. "You just reminded me of someone is all..."

And how very much he did remind him... Quick to laugh, with an easy smile and disarmingly carefree manner that could put even the most battle weary at ease. Underneath it all, though, he was a caring, hard working individual, who, as Mustang had witnessed for himself on several occasions, could be quite serious when the time warranted it... Till this very moment, he hadn't realized just how much he missed his friend... Suddenly he remembered all those times Maes had babbled on about his wife or his little girl, and regretted every time he had cut him off, or hung up...

_ If only I had known._

"What are you waiting for," He said walking over to Harper, as he swallowed the lump in his throat. "Let's see that picture..."

As much as he might wish to refute it, Harper's revelations of the last few days, had been keeping him up long after Harper himself, had gone to sleep.

Just hours ago, fully in the grip of a terrible fugue, he had promised her he would get her home. Now, in the strange clarity of this night, he came to understand how very unlikely that actually was...

To his knowledge, Ed was the only one to have successfully completed a transmutation on this side of the gate... And he had yet to find any evidence of he, or his brother's whereabouts, or if they even still lived. Things were hardly going according to plan...

He certainly hadn't expected to be dropped into the middle of an active war zone, but from the moment she had appeared in the circle, nothing had gone anywhere near according to plan.

He had expected for alchemy to be difficult, but not impossible, to use. After all, Edward had able to use it, but as of yet, he hadn't managed to flare up so much as a single spark.

He suspected there might be some other force at play, or perhaps he just wasn't strong enough, but either way, he was doing them both a disservice, if he continued to delude himself that this, in any way, changed their increasingly slim odds of getting home. With or without Ed and Al. In that vein, he realized, he hadn't been entirely honest with himself, or her...

He'd recognized from the start, that this might be a fool's errand, and he well understood there was a great deal more at stake now, but continuing to do as he had been doing, would only set him up to hurt her again, and that was something he refused to do.

She was different now, even from the person she had been just a few days ago. So was he.

This place was changing them. Unknowingly he'd left his powers behind at the gate between worlds, and from that time on, he'd been leaving other little bits of his identity along the wayside... His gloves, his uniform, his status, even the masks he wore to hide the pain, all were gone... But the loss of all things familiar, had finally helped to get everything out in the open... Now it was time to give her a promise he could keep, and hope that would be enough.

As the sky began to change from black, to the steely gray of predawn, he resolved to speak candidly with her about his concerns.

He roused himself, and took a seat on a stump not far from the fire. There he waited through the breaking of dawn, as the camp stirred slowly to life. Soon, she too stirred, but still he did not move... Instead, he waited until most every one had left the camp, before going to stand beside her...

It was likely to be one of the hardest conversations he might ever have, on par with the one he and Gracia had shared following the funeral, but it needed to be done. Swallowing he steeled himself to begin.

"Winry, there are some things I need to tell you... Difficult things... But I hope you will hear me out."

He paused for a moment, to gauge her reaction, but she simply nodded, her features remaining neutral and difficult to read. So, with another fortifying breath, he began to explain their situation. He elected not to soften his conclusions, and for the first time, was completely honest with her, not only about his fears, but also about the loss of his alchemy.

Though it was the first time he had admitted the loss, outright, to her, her reaction to the news, led him to believe that she had suspected this fact for some time, and had simply been too kind to mention it.

He felt sheepish for having attempted to keep something so obvious from her, and even more so for having believed he'd succeeded.

"...So that is where things stand for now. I'll do my best to get you established some place safe, but once that's done, if you want me to leave, I'll understand..."

"Why,would I want you to leave?"

"Well I-"

"Unless you want to go, I'd rather you stayed. You're the only person I know here, and even if that weren't the case, I think I'd still want you to."

Mustang felt a twinge deep within his chest as she spoke these words. He'd been prepared for a very different response, and hadn't thought it would mean so much to him... Now, he searched for a way to express how grateful he was... words hardly seemed enough...

He wanted to promise her, that he would never stop looking for Ed and Al, that he would stay with her until it was within his power to do so...

He took a breath, and opened his mouth to to say so, but another voice cut through from somewhere outside the camp. Whoever it was, was still some distance away. He tried again to say the words, but once more the voice cut between them.

"MUSTANG!"

Annoyed, he ignored the voice, and tried to force the words, but this time, it was she who cut him off. Shaking her head, she patted his arm twice, then stood and walked across the camp, calling out to the person inquiring after him.

"HE'S HERE!"

She reached the edge of the trees just as Hicks emerged from the forest. She greeted him, then stepped aside, pointing in Mustangs direction. He tipped his nonexistent hat to her, then made a B-line for his query.

"Mustang, Harper wants you down at the camp ASAP. He sent me to stay with miz Winry while you're gone, so you wouldn't have to worry."

But he was worried, none the less. He'd never forgotten how Hicks had reacted to Winry during that first encounter, and part of him wondered if Harper had even sent him.

"Did Harper say why he wanted?"

"Oh, yes sir. He said it was on account of your bein' able to speak Kraut"

Sensing his hesitation, Hicks stepped closer.

"Look, I know you ain't trusted me 'round her since that first day, and I understand... I hardly acted the gentlemen, and I'm sorry. That's not the way my mother raised me." He said quietly. "The Sargent was right to set me straight..."

Mustang still wasn't entirely convinced. It must have shown, because after casting a worried glance in the direction of the camp, Hicks entreated him once more.

"Please, I'd never let anything happen to her, she'll be safe with me, honestly! They really do need your help down there to talk to the survivors."

Throughout this speech, he had looked quite penitent, and there had been no further incidents since the first. He shot a pensive look toward her, but she looked unconcerned, so finally, he nodded his assent.

"Apparently, some sort of secret project was being conducted near here. Buxton hopes to learn the identity of the project's engineers... He needs to question the labor camp survivors, but no one here speaks enough English to be of any help, and none of the squad speak enough German to be any help either... That's where you come in" Carter said, as he led Mustang down the hall of the main building, and stopped before what looked to be an office door. "I've already stuck my neck out for you, as it is, but Harper says you speak kraut real good, so I'll do it again... Just remember, it's not just me, Harper's vouching for you too, don't make us regret it..."

With that, he opened the door into the office. Mustang had assumed he would meet with Buxton, before going to talk with the survivors, but the room he entered had been converted into an isolation room. Buxton was already there, hovering over the bed of a nearly skeletal man. Without further instruction, Carter went to the other side of the bed, so Mustang moved joined him.

Barely acknowledging them, Buxton, with little preamble, held a small photograph up, close to the sickly man's face. Across from him, on the opposite side of the bed, Mustang could not make out the features of the photo, due to the glare of sunlight through the window, and he wasn't sure the man lying in the cot could either. He was about to mention this, but Buxton cut him off, directing him to ask if the man in the picture had been one of the men in charge. Mustang leaned in close by the man to ask, then began to lean back, but at once, the nearly skeletal wreck before him, gripped his arm more tightly than he would have thought possible, pulling himself upright... Extremely agitated, the man began to shake violently, as he gasped out his reply.

"He didn't do this! He was a good man- Good to us- Never looked at us, or treated us the way _they_ did- He didn't want to help them at all- They came too quickly, he couldn't escape- They threatened his family- For a while he cooperated- But when he found out what they were doing- Even their threats weren't enough anymore- He flatly refused them- It was a dark day for us all, when they dragged him away- He and his brother..."

Mustang did his best to translate, while also attempting to calm the man, so he didn't harm himself further, but the man wasn't finished. When he had recovered sufficiently, he began anew.

"It was months before we saw him again- We never saw his brother after that, but they threatened to kill him, if he didn't help them- For a while, it seemed they had broken him- But he was still defying them- Soon they started to accuse him of sabotage- It wasn't long before he was dragged away again- That time for good- He was a good man..."

Finally finished, chest heaving, he released Mustangs arm, and collapsed back into the pillows he'd been propped up with. Now murmuring, he repeated 'a good man' again under his breath several times, until his eyes closed, and exhaustion forced him into unconsciousness.

As Mustang was assuring himself that the man was still breathing, he finished the translation of the man's second outburst.

Glowing, Colonel Buxton tucked the photo back into his attache case. Then in a moment of bureaucratic weakness, he began to gloat...

"Ha ha! I knew it, I knew it! The moment we intercepted those drawings... The engineers said they were a stroke of genius, they didn't understand how such mechanical wizardry could coexist with such seemingly amateur 'mistakes' ... Sabotage!... That's how!... So, not only is he brilliant beyond belief, he's not even loyal! What more could you ask for!"

Whistling happily to himself, he picked up his case, and abruptly exited the room, leaving the rest of them scrambling to follow. When they caught up to him in the hallway, he began to speak. "Well staf-"

"Sargent, sir, just Sargent" Carter politely corrected him.

"Hmm...? Oh yes, how stupid of me..." He said, coming to an abrupt halt, as he began to root around in his bag. "Ahh yes there they are... For valorous conduct and blah blah blah etc., you are hereby promoted to the rank of staff Sargent."

With that, the man dragged his hand from the depths of the attache case. Carter held out his own, to offer it in kind, but instead of a hearty handshake, the man unceremoniously dumped in a pair of chevron shaped patches, which Carter only barely managed to catch, as the man turned away to continue down the hall.

"Now then, where was I...oh yes. The additional medical support should be here in the morning, at which time, I want you and your men to go help reenforce the camp northeast of here. I'm going on ahead by jeep, I will expect you there mid day tomorrow, my clerk will give you the coordinates"

"Yes, sir"

"That will be all." He said, dismissing them abruptly.

With out another word, he entered another door, this one still leading to an office, and closed it swiftly behind him. Now left standing alone in the corridor, Carter gave Mustang an appraising glance.

"What?" Mustang asked after a moment, feeling ever so slightly selfconscious under the scrutiny.

"You weren't anything like that as a Colonel, were you?"

Relieved it wasn't anything more serious, Mustang couldn't help but grin, as he shook his head.

"No"

Carter gave an exaggerated sigh of relief.

"Thank god, wouldn't like to think I'd misjudged you _that_ badly."

At this, Mustang threw back his head and laughed. Carter joined in, clapping him on the shoulder, as they continued down the hallway.

True to his word, Buxton had gone ahead by jeep the night before. It might have been more comfortable and expedient to go by truck, but Mustang was glad for the extra time walking took, because the refugee camp, the place where they would have to part ways with Carter's squad, was near by, and he would be sorry to see them go. Most of all, he would miss the camaraderie that had developed between them, especially the friendship between he and Harper...

They arrived there just before mid day, and were saying their goodbyes, when a runner, apparently from the camp Carter's men were headed to, dashed up.

Carter pulled him aside after identifying himself, and they quietly conferred, then with a nod Carter rejoined the rest of the group. The man remained where he was, waiting somewhat impatiently, as Carter explained what was going on.

"Seems you've made an impression, Mustang. Buxton wants to see you, to quote the impatient man over there, 'the moment he arrives'"

He nodded, but wondered what exactly had earned him this dubious honor.

"Hicks, you and he stay here, and help get Winry settled in, then you can meet back up with us at the camp" Carter said, indicating he and the runner with a wave of his hand.

Hicks nodded, and as he held out his hand to her, Mustang whispered to Winry that he would be back as soon as he could and flashed her a smile. Then looking back over her shoulder, she and the two men disappeared through the gate with what few things they possessed.

The rest continued on down the road, and soon reached their destination. As they passed through the gate, he saw Hanson elbow Bailey and point to some wooden crates behind what appeared to be the mess hall.

"Hey, you see what I see?" He said from the corner of his mouth.

Bailey did a double take, then snatched the hat off his pumpkin colored head, and clutched it to his chest in an overly dramatic fashion.

"5 in 1's? Tell me I'm not seeing things, Hanson... Cripes, that Buxton fella has pull..."

"I'll say... Hope we're in time for dinner!"

They grinned at each other, and Bailey gave Hanson a sideways shove.

"It's always about food with you." He said, as Hanson recovered quickly and laughingly shoved him back, then they both hurried to catch up with the rest of the group.

For the most part, this exchange had been a bit confusing to Mustang. He assumed that '5 in 1' referred to food rations, and judging by their reaction, to better food rations than they had been eating, which wasn't too hard...

What was clear, was the lightness that had returned to the squad. The wave of general relief, that had washed over Carter and his men when the medical aid trucks had rolled into sight that morning, had been almost palpable. The levity had begun to return shortly there after, seeming to grow in direct proportion to each step they put between them, and the horrors of that blighted place. No one had laughed, really laughed, since they'd crested that hill three days ago, and the loss had weighed heavily on everyone...

"Mustang!"

He started. Lost in thought, he'd ground to a halt, as he stared at the crates. Now he turned, and hurried to catch up with Harper, who stood letting the rest of the men pass, as he waited for Roy to catch up.

"You looked miles away just then... Bet I can guess what you were thinking about..." He said, with a mischievous glint in his eye, as Mustang reached him. "Don't worry, we'll get you back to her in no time"

Mustang shot him a scathing look, but immune to it, Harper only returned an impish grin.

.o0o.

Despite the insistence that he report immediately, Buxton himself, took hours to appear. They had eaten (the food _was_ better), and were sitting out on the steps of the mess hall, enjoying the last of the afternoon sun, when he finally graced them with his presence. He wasted no time with pleasantries.

"Staff Sargent, your duty roster... This Heinrich Vogler, he's one of yours?"

He indicated a name on the top sheet of the clipboard he'd just handed Carter.

"Yes sir, one of my best." Carter stated clearly, looking up at his superior officer.

Though it remained unspoken, Carter's tone and expression clearly asked where this was going. An expression he shared with the rest of the men sitting there. They needn't wait long to find out...

"You trust him?" Buxton asked, sounding incredulous, and unabashedly blunt.

From the corner of his eye, mustang cast a sidelong glance at the man in question. He saw Harry stiffen, and though he made not a sound, his hand drew into a fist beside him, as his jaw tightened perceptibly in a show of anger, disgust, or both.

"With my life, sir!" Carter answered without hesitation, his tone both genuine, and a touch exasperated.

Buxton only shook his head in disbelieving amusement, before adding insult to injury.

"A Krout fighting Krouts, well don't that beat all!" He laughed.

The men did not share in it. Harry, having had more than enough, stood and walked briskly away, seemingly unnoticed by Buxton, though not by the rest, who's eyes followed his retreating form with a mixture of sympathy and outrage. Oblivious to this, Buxton continued on undaunted.

"Most of your men will have the night off, but I took the liberty of adding a few to this evening's rotations, the rest will be included, once tomorrow's cycle begins..." He said.

Then turning to Roy, he clapped him on the shoulder.

"Mr. Mustang, glad you could make it, you see I've requested a translator, but he won't be here for some time, and since you did such a crack job for us before, I hoped you could help us out again."

He began to ramble on about fine accommodations, and all the rest of the false promises bureaucrats like him offered, when you had something they valued, but Mustang was no longer fully listening... Carter, who was sitting on the step above the one he was, had set the roster on his lap, and begun to flip through the pages clipped to it.

Cutting Buxton off mid sentence, Mustang quickly excused himself, asking to pick this back up with him at a later time. Buxton, unaccustomed to such a brush off, was struck temporarily speechless by it, and left to stand gaping after the quickly retreating man. It was a fact that would have made Roy smile had he noticed, but his attention was decidedly elsewhere.

It had been hours since mustang left with Carter to go meet Buxton, and she was beginning to feel much the way she had when Carter had dragged him into that farmhouse on the first day... but unlike that day, there were few distractions here to find comfort in.

She'd settled in as best she could, but that only served to be a minor distraction. As there wasn't much unpacking to do. She only had a few blankets, a canteen, and a couple more boxes of those awful rations. So it really wasn't enough to keep her from her fears for long... And the people here pretty much kept to themselves.

They'd hardly rolled out the welcome wagon for her... In fact, they'd barely paid any attention to her at all. Though she suspected this was pretty much the case with _all_ newcomers, it was probably even more so with her, considering the company she had arrived in. Even so, the lack of company soon meant there was nothing at all left to stave off the worry, who's seed had been sown when that runner had met them at the gates as they arrived.

The aforementioned runner had departed the moment she was squared away in her tent. Hicks, on the other hand, had stayed on for far longer than he probably should have, waiting with her until the sun had dipped low in the west.

Finally, not wanting to get him into trouble, she had told him to go, insisting she would be fine, but it had been a lie. Now, with hour upon hour passing, and still no sign of Mustang, that seed had grown into a boulder sized knot of tangling, strangling vines, as she sat alone upon an army issue cot in her new canvas abode.

Still as a statue she remained, while the twin tendrils of fear and despair encircled her heart and soul, choking out optimism and replacing it with dread.

As it grew dark, lanterns were lit by neighboring tenants, then in time extinguished one by one, until all the sounds of the camp had dwindled to the solitary crunching footfalls of patrolling sentries. it was then in the near silent darkness, when the sum of her fears achieved a crushing weight, that the tears came.

She hadn't cried, _really_ cried, since that first night, but cry now, she did, for the fear that she had lost him... The tears hadn't come out of simple loneliness though, or even fear of abandonment, because in truth she feared losing him as a _protector_ far less now, than she feared losing him as her _companion_. up until now, he had been the one thing left she could rely on. The one constant in her tumbled down life, and the prospect of losing him now, of losing that one remaining bit of stability, left her gasping. just how many losses could one heart take, before there simply weren't enough pieces left to put it back together again... As the coming hours of darkness stretched out as endless miles before her, that question remained on her mind, and she truly feared the answers she might find.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.

_**A/N: **Ok folks, for those of you who were wondering..._

_The reason for Mustang's hesitation in the last chapter, was all a matter of where the gun was pointed. The SS guard inadvertently saved himself, at least for a moment, by pointing the gun at Roy instead of Winry... Mustang would not hesitate to protect the people he cares about or deems 'innocents' when they are directly threatened (as we see just a moment later, when the gun is pointed at Harper), but he finds it a bit more difficult to do the same for himself (he was speaking from personal experience, when he talked about Winry not actively seeking death, but not actively avoiding it either). In the instant the gun was pointed at him, the big picture lost focus, because, in the defense of his own life, his actions are no longer instant or instinctual, it came down to a fraction of a second's semiconscious vacillation between, whether or not it was worth taking another life to preserve his own. Had he had more time (more than a split second), he would have overcome it, but Harper charged in, and the SS officer didn't make the right decision the second time... The rest, as they say, is history._

_**Please Read and Review!**_


	6. Chapter 6: A Crazy Plan

**_**Author's note**_****_**:**_**_ My deepest and most sincere apologies on how delayed this chapter is. Life gets in the way of most grand plans, and so it was with this... However, I think I may be back on track now. This story was mostly complete when I first sought the opinion of my wonderful beta reader and story adviser, __ZonkieTheGreat, __and thanks to her advice, it evolved a great deal more. Unfortunately, I realized as I began the final edit of this chapter, that a large portion of it had been left untouched, which meant it no longer flowed with the rest of the story. It took me a while to make it work again, and if it hadn't been necessary to the story line, I would have abandoned it all together, but it's finally fixed, so... Thank you for your immense patience, please enjoy this _**_late_**_st installment of Penance!_

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

**Chapter 6**

**A Crazy Plan**

Mustang spotted his quarry across the way. Hurrying to intercept him, he asked Harper for a word in private. Harper, clearly surprised to find Mustang still in the camp after so many hours, took in his overhasty tone and manner with a suspicious look. Grudgingly though, he nodded his assent, and followed Roy out of the compound. They entered the trees just a little way outside the gate.

Harper, for his part, waited patiently for mustang to explain himself, which he did, once he was sure they were out of sight of the gate. Finally stopping, he turned to face his friend.

"Harper, I have a favor to ask of you..."

"You realize I could be shot for this..." He grumbled when Mustang had finished.

His face was solemn, but he was already pulling off his dog tags.

"And they _will _shoot _you_ if you're caught... Have you thought of that?"

He shook his head, as though he couldn't believe what he was doing, then quickly began to unbutton his shirt.

"Have you at least told Winry?" He inquired quietly, while doing so.

When he received Mustang's answer, a simple shake of his head after a moment's silent pause, he swore under his breath, but handed over his shirt just the same.

"Look, I wouldn't ask if I thought there was any other way..." Mustang said, following suit. "If I'm caught, I'll tell them I surprised you... Just try to keep her out of the crossfire if you can. Tell them she's just a refugee I was using for cover or something..."

Harper was still shaking his head.

"I must be nuts..." He muttered to himself as he continued to hand over his uniform piece by piece.

.o0o.

Twenty minutes later, Roy strolled into the compound trying to act natural, and attempting to keep his distance from the rest of Carter's squad. Thankfully, he made it to Harper's assigned post unnoticed.

"Unless you like staring matches, you're in for a long dull night. Hope you brought a book..." Muttered the other soldier as he was relieved.

Mustang had to suppress a smirk as he shot a glance at the figure lying with it's back to them.

_Hasn't changed a bit. _

After the previous guard had departed, Roy waited several minutes to insure they wouldn't be disturbed. During that time, he busied himself by standing on the chair the last man had vacated, to unscrew the bare bulb that hung above. Not all the way, mind you, just enough so that it no longer received power.

That done, he returned the chair to its previous position, and lit the oil lantern that had been provided in the event of a power outage. The dim, gently flickering light ought to be enough to obscure his features, should anyone come in. He doubted anyone would though. It had been dusk when he arrived, and all around him he heard the sounds of soldiers settling in for the night.

Lifting the lantern now, he approached the bars. As their shadows danced across the floor towards the figure on the cot, his eyes lit upon something that made him chuckle. There beside the cot lay a tin tray, all the food had been eaten, but the drink provided had been left untouched.

"Still don't like milk, Huh?" He said, laughter coloring his voice.

This finally earned at least a vocal response from the cell's stoic occupant.

"Buzz off, jackass," The figure said in German. "I'm not here for your amusement."

Mustang chuckled again. That was just about the exact response he had expected.

"Oh, come off it Ed, at least I didn't call you short."

At this the figure twisted to glare over his shoulder, his face shrouded in shadows the lantern light stubbornly refused to pierce. Abruptly he rose with a single harsh laugh, to sit at the edge of the cot.

"Let me guess smartass, you read a few personnel reports, and you _think_ you know me..." He demanded snidely, as he peered angrily up at his visitor.

Without waiting for an answer, Roy's former subordinate came to his feet, and began to advance on him, though his shoulders remained hunched.

"Try this on for size... Just by looking at you, I'd bet your a promotion seeking brown noser who would do just about anything to move up the ranks. For the most part you alternate between acting superior, and acting unconcerned, but it's all a mask for your true intentions... Oh, and your name is Roy."

As his tirade came to a close, Ed slowed to a stop about midway between his cot and the bars.

"So how'd I do? Good, right?... And _I_ didn't even have a personnel file..." He finished, sounding overly proud of himself.

Confused by his odd behavior, Roy stepped closer to the bars.

"Ed this is no time for one of your tantrums, I need your help... How did you get alchemy to work here?"

In response to this question, Ed's demeanor changed drastically.

"Who sent you?" He asked in a hushed, suspicious, tone.

Though Roy could barely make out his face in the gathering darkness, Eds eyes visibly narrowed, and he retreated a step.

"Was it the Thule society? Who ever it was, you're out of luck, I'll never help you."

"Ed, what are you talking about? No one sent me..."

"Then who are you? What do you want?" He demanded, retreating another step.

"Ed, it's _me_, Roy, Roy Mustang. I've come a very long way to see you."

"How can I be sure it's really you?"

At this, Roy finally felt a bit of relief from the anxiety that had begun to grow within him. For here, finally, Ed had given him an opportunity to prove he was who he claimed to be. After all, there were a number of things he knew about the boys that few, even at home, were aware of...

"The first time I met you, I had come looking for your father. I stood out in the rain watching your house... It was the night you lost your arm and leg, and Al lost his body in a failed attempt to resurrect your mother... The last time I saw you, was just before I agreed to destroy the gate in your brother's stead..." Mustang lifted the lamp and removed his hat so that his face was clearly visible.

"It really is you... If you destroyed the gate, then what are you doing here?"

"I should ask the same question of you, Ed..."

"We _tried_!There's no alchemy here, _Remember_?" Ed growled angrily, advancing on him again. "Once it was opened, the gate on this side could not be destroyed, and it can't be said that we didn't try... What they did carved it into more than just the ceiling of the fortress. Even after we detonated one of the rockets and collapsed the place, I could still feel it hanging there. The most I could hope for was that it would remain hidden and dormant... And that dismantling your side would be enough to keep it that way..."

Roy had heard little of this explanation, though.

As Ed slowly entered the ring of lamplight, the true extent of the disaster this mission had become, was made clearly evident in the lantern glow. The voice was Ed's, no doubt, perhaps a bit deeper and more harsh on the ears than it had once been, but Roy had assumed that was due, in part, to his reaching maturity in less than ideal conditions. His appearance, however, made it obvious that far more than just three years had passed for him. The man before him much more closely resembled Hoenhyme than the young man he had known and expected to encounter again. Mustang shook his head in hopes of eradicating the vision, but it firmly refused to fade.

"What's wrong general? You look like you've seen a ghost..." Ed asked, letting his earlier explanation trail off. "Oh I _see_, you're just now figuring it out, aren't you?"

Coming to stand just inches from him, Ed gripped the bars that separated them.

"Congratulations, it took me months to realize the time lines didn't flow evenly on both sides of the gate..."

The laugh that followed this remarkable revelation, was cold and humorless.

Giving his head one last shake in an effort to regain equilibrium, Roy focused on the task at hand. Strange as this all might seem, the fact of the matter was, that it changed nothing. Old or young, he intended to get Winry and his former charges back home. So, drawing himself straight, he looked Ed in the eye.

"I've come to send you home." He stated simply, but Ed's response was hardly what he had expected.

"You've come on a fool's errand, then..."

Surprising in both speed and veracity, Roy experienced a sudden building of anger and frustration the likes of which he hadn't felt in years...About five years, to be exact.

"Damn it, Ed, were you really so blind then that you didn't see how badly you would hurt her! She risked everything for you, her work, her freedom, _her life_! and all you could manage was a 'so long and thanks for all the automail'? You were a child then, so I suppose maybe I could understand it, but are you still so childish now?"

At this, a strange anger flared in Ed's eyes, making him even more unrecognizable.

"You don't know what it's like, Roy!" He growled angrily. "When they come for you, it's like you never existed. I thought I knew what evil was... That I'd seen the worst horrors mankind could unleash when I faced Dante and the Homunculus she fostered, but they don't hold a candle to these bastards... No, compared to them, Dante was an absolute saint...

"There was talk of it, even before the war began... Rumors of people just disappearing in Germany and Poland, but for a while it seemed that was all they were. Then one day Noah went out. She was just going to pick some things up for supper, but she never came back. We searched everywhere for her, but she'd simply vanished. Knowing what I do now, I shudder to think what became of her...

"Two days later, I woke to soldiers bursting through my door and dragging me from my bed. They threw Al and I into the back of truck in the middle of the night. Took us from our home without reason or warning... I cant go... I won't! It's nearly over, the war's almost won. I'll see them on their knees for what they did..." He finished, his fists, now clenched tightly at his sides, shook out of barely contained rage.

Glinting in his former subordinate's eyes, Mustang thought he detected the slightest edge of madness showing through the righteous anger of a man horribly wronged. And though Roy'd realized long ago, that it was often pointless to try and reason with either those righteously angry and/or those gone mad, he was willing to try now for her sake.

"Look, I really don't know how much time has past in this world, but in our world it's only been three years... I came to send you back because she needed you, Pinako is gone, Ed, Winry's all alone now."

But Ed only gazed back silently, with the steely eyed determination of a man who would not be moved from his position.

"Fine... I came here to get you back, but stay or go, that's your prerogative, my only concern now is Winry. Getting her home safely is my highest priority now... So no matter whether you go or stay, I still need you to tell me everything you know about alchemy in this world, so I can get _her_ home..."

This, finally, seemed to break Ed's focus away from his own rage.

"Her? Winry's here?"

Mustang nodded gravely.

"And it's getting more and more dangerous for her by the day-"

"Then why the hell did you..." Ed cut him off angrily, but he must have seen the dangerous look in Mustang's eye, because he clamped his jaw shut on the accusation. "I'll tell you what you need to know, but I'm not going back... Whether Al does or not... Well, that's his decision."

Mustang sighed wearily, it was going to be a very long night...

.o0o.

Unaccustomed to the early morning sunlight, Roy squinted as he stepped out of the stockade's gloomy interior, suppressing a yawn. It was hardly the first time he'd gone without sleep, but it was clear by his body's response, that he'd grown unaccustomed to it.

He ran his fingers through his unruly hair, in a vain attempt to tame it, though he knew it was pointless, and stifled another yawn. The men of the camp were already up and around, going about their morning duties.

As he surveyed his surroundings, he spied a figure striding determinedly towards him. Even at this distance he was easily identifiable by that shock of pumpkin hair, it was the last person he wanted to run into right now... Bailey.

There was still enough distance between them, that Mustang could be reasonably certain he hadn't been recognized yet, but that would change quickly if he allowed the man to get much closer. Ducking his head, he moved into a group of passing soldiers jogging in formation. Ignoring the grumbles and mutterings from them as he pushed his way through, he ducked between the barracks beyond. A moment later, he peeked around the corner in the direction of the stockade, and was relieved to see the successfully evaded Bailey, standing on it's stoop, having a brief conversation with the soldier that had relived him.

Opting for the path less traveled in hopes of avoiding any more close calls, Mustang chose to turn and head toward the back of the barracks. there looked to be a walkway between them and the fence that separated the camp from the outside world. banking on the likelihood that few others would use this route, he moved toward the gate. For the most part he was correct, making it all the way to the gate house that sat to one side of it, before he ran smack into the one person he was even less inclined to run into than Bailey...

Carter, for his part, said nothing though his eyes narrowed instantly, and one eyebrow seemed poised to make a hasty retreat into his hairline. Both these reactions faded instantly, though, as his focus was drawn somewhere over Mustang's left shoulder.

"Hey, Bailey. Something I can do for you?" The Sargent asked in a surprisingly jovial tone.

Mustang had suddenly come to a complete understanding of the phrase 'between a rock and a hard place', or was it 'the devil and the deep blue sea'... Both seemed equally appropriate at this moment. His shoulders hunched, but Roy didn't turn to look at the man behind him, in a moment he was certain he wouldn't have to. The jig was up.

"Actually, I was hoping to have a word with the Corporal if you don't mind..."

Surprisingly, instead of sounding suspicious, his tone seemed distracted and even a touch embarrassed.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible just now..." Carter answered evenly.

Mustang waited for the Sargent to expose the deception.

"There are some things the Corporal and I need to discuss that can't wait. Why don't you head on over to the mess, and get your self something to eat... I'll send him 'round as soon as we've finished"

Mustang's eyes widened questioningly. Only vaguely did he register the 'yessir', and receding footsteps. As his focus returned to Roy, Carter's eyes narrowed again.

"Let's go _Corporal,_ we have some things to discuss..."

With one hand resting gently but no less menacingly on his sidearm, the other firmly gripped Mustang's upper arm and briskly steered him, first down the road, then when they had left the view of the gate, into the brush... It was close enough to where he and Harper had entered the woods the day before, that he felt a brief sense of deja vu...

When they were out of sight of the road, Carter's grip on his arm released and he stepped back from Mustang, though the other hand never left his sidearm.

"Give me your weapons."

His voice was gruff and reminiscent of the day about a week ago when they had first met. Without argument, Mustang passed them over. Carter had not exposed his deception while in the camp, that gave him the slightest glimmer of hope.

Looking like he felt a little more confident, now that all the guns were in his possession, Carter began to ask questions.

"Just what the hell is going on, Mustang? Where's Harper? What did you do to him?"

With a sigh, Mustang decided to go out on a limb and trust Carter with the truth.

"Harper's fine, I didn't do anything to him... If you don't believe me, you can ask him yourself, he's not far from here if he's where I left him last evening..."

The Sargent emitted a sound surprisingly similar to a growl, and a muscle near his temple gave a few spastic twitches, then in a rush of expelled breath, he said.

"Take me there."

Mustang nodded then began to lead the way through the thick undergrowth. Finally, they erupted into the clearing he'd left Harper in the evening before, and there was the man himself. Alive and well as promised, and crouching with his back to them as picked through the contents of a K-ration box.

Not immediately turning to face them, Harper spoke.

"'Bout time you got back here, it was bloody cold wearing this stuff last night, especially without a fire, and I honestly thought I was done eating this crap for a while. You owe me..."

As Harper finally turned to face the newcomers, Mustang saw all the blood drain from his face as his jaw went slack, then soundlessly opened and closed a few times.

"Hello, Harper" Carter said calmly, but with much menace.

"I- I can explain-" Harper blurted helplessly, before Carter cut him off.

"And I _fully_ expect you to... But now is not the time. Hurry up and get changed, Bailey's looking for you..."

"What's he want?"Asked Harper, who had now begun to recover from the initial shock of seeing Carter.

"How the hell should I know?" Carter replied testily. "He didn't say, but with his luck he probably got the clap while he was on leave in London..."

Harper grimaced

"Probably"

When they had finished switching back to their own cloths, Carter returned Harper's rifle and sidearm to him.

"You get your ass over to the medical ward as soon as you're done with Bailey... And _stay_ there... Me and Mustang are gonna have us a little chat, and I expect to find you there when it's done"

Harper gave a curt nod and then without another word plunged into the undergrowth. When he had gone, Carter returned his attention to Mustang.

"What were you thinking, pulling a stunt like that, does Winry know?"

"No."

"She must be worried sick, and did you even stop to think what would have happened to her if, anyone besides me had discovered you?"

"Harper and I discussed it briefly, I asked him to look after her if anything happened..."

"And precisely how would he have accomplished that, sitting in the stockade?"

"I'm sorry, the plan was spur of the moment-"

"Spur of the moment my ass, it was _reckless_! And not once have ever known you to be reckless, especially when it came to keeping _her_ safe... So what on earth has got you so hot and bothered that you would go off half cocked, and risk her freedom, maybe even her life?"

Mustang looked down abashedly, because Carter was right as usual. And, as he still had yet to shoot him, or march him back to the stockade, Mustang decided to trust him a little further.

"Edward and Alphonse Elric." He answered softly.

"The Elrics?-" Carter cried, visibly grappling to find the words that might express his incredulity. "Have you gone completely mad!"

"Winry's an orphan." Mustang spoke this so softly that Carter almost missed it, but it drew him up short.

"What?" Carter sputtered, now looking genuinely confused. "What has that got to do with _any_ of this?"

Mustang sighed then began to explain himself.

"Everything... She was orphaned when she was quite young, and after her parents were killed, aside from her grandmother the closest thing she had to family were two brothers from her village. They had also been orphaned young..."

"The Elrics" Carter interjected.

"Yes."

Carter, pinching the bridge of his nose, looked as though he was beginning to develop a nasty headache.

"Is _that_ why you seemed so excited when you saw the duty roster?"

"Was it that obvious? I thought I'd covered it better" Mustang replied, falling off track for a moment, but Carter only shot him a withering look, and folded his arms across his chest.

"OK, ok..." Mustang said, holding his hands out conciliatorally "Yes"

Carter dropped his arms now

"Why! What _is_ it between you and her? What on earth makes a man wake up in the morning and say to himself 'Hmm, I think I'll try and get myself _killed _today'?"

"Because _I _recruited them!..." He cried "It was _my _fault, _I_ took them from her... I took _everything _from her!..."

He swallowed, then after a moment he continued, but the bluster had gone out of him now. "They were all she had left and I took them... I know you're upset-"

"Oh, I'm a hell of a lot more than _upset_." Carter said, cutting him off. "Harper's got a family to worry about _too_. He doesn't need to be getting mixed up in halfwit schemes that are likely to get him shot!"

"You're right, I'm sorry, but can you blame me for trying to give something back to her?"

Carter shook his head "No, I just don't buy it... There has _got_ to be more to it than _that_... You were a ranking officer in _wartime_. These _can't_ be the only men you ever lost, so why the _obsession_... Why the obsession with _her_?"

Carter waited patiently for a response, but on this Mustang remained silent. Realizing he would get no answer, Carter let out an exasperated sigh.

"Fine, have it your way"

He'd started to turn away, when Mustang spoke up.

"Look, I know you don't owe me any favors, but I really am sorry about Harper, and whatever your decision, I promise I'll tell them anything you think they'll believe, to keep him out of trouble... Only, would you _please _let me see her before you turn me in?"

"_I'M NOT GOING TO TURN YOU IN!_"

"You're not?" Mustang asked, genuinely surprised by this outright admission, but also much relieved.

"NO! If I was going to I would have done it _long_ before now..." His aggrivetion finally blowing itself out, his voice lowered into a calmer, even timbre. "While most certainly ill advised, I don't think your actions were sinister in nature. You've acted in good faith so far... And besides, whether I like it or not, Harper trusts you, and I trust his judgment... I just wish you two would'ave trusted me..."

Carter paused, seemingly waiting for a response but as guilty as he felt, Mustang could think of none that seemed appropriate. finally his arms dropped to his sides and he shook his head.

"You all are going to put me in an early grave..." He muttered under his breath, dropping his arms to his sides and shaking his head, then aloud, said. "Alright get out of here. Just don't think this conversation is closed, we'll talk again soon. Now go... Go let Winry know your still alive"

.o0o.

It had been a harrowing night, and the blanket she'd wrapped around herself did little to mitigate the all encompassing numbness that had been brought on, not by cold, but fear.

A little after daybreak, the clearing of a throat and a shuffling of feet, followed after a moment, by a somewhat timid knock on the center pole of the tent, heralded the arrival of a guest. She quickly inquired who it was, wondering as she did, at the false perception of security the drab canvas walls gave her. Hicks announced himself, and after a moment she pulled back the flap.

"He still ain't back." He stated with a sigh, after a long moment's study of her less than well rested countenance.

Giving a small, quickly fading smile, she shook her head in answer, though his statement hadn't really required one.

"Well, I brought you some food anyway. They got in some better supplies over at our camp, and I figured we could all use a break from those K's"

Again, she smiled weakly, and he fell back a pace to let her pass as she stepped out of the tent. She seated herself on a crate, and he did likewise after she took the small cloth wrapped parcel he'd held out to her. Inside it she found a sandwich of eggs and cheese on toast and another of toast spread with jam and butter. He had also come bearing a steaming canteen cup full of what he informed her, was _real_, fresh brewed coffee. Accepting his offerings gratefully, she began to eat, noticing as she did, that the eggs tasted a bit strange. When she mentioned it politely in passing, instead of looking offended, as she had feared he might, he gave a short barking laugh.

"That's on account of 'em being the powdered, canned variety, instead of the cracked from the shell variety. A fact that also makes 'em awfully hard to dye come Easter time..." He explained, chuckling lightly at his own joke.

Relieved, not to have offended him, she found herself smiling back, though it was more because she didn't really have any idea what 'Easter' was, and why it would make anyone want to dye eggs in the first place...

Aside from the slightly odd flavor of the eggs, she had found the meal to be wholly delicious, but all to soon it was gone, and with it what little distraction she'd had from her worry.

Unbidden and unwanted, she felt a tear slide down to her chin, and saw Hicks' face, which only a moment ago had been lit with a shared appreciation of the good food and light conversation, fall at the sight of it. This was one of the reasons she hated letting others see her cry...

While he was careful to keep a respectful distance, he tentatively stood, and reached out to lay a comforting hand lightly on her shoulder.

"Aw, don't worry Winry. Buxton's probably just got him stashed away somewhere, working on that pet project a his... I'm sure he'll turn up soon." He drawled in an attempt to sound encouraging.

Then, looking off to the side, muttered 'Speak of the devil'. Inclining his head in the direction he'd been looking, he said in a normal tone. "Here he comes now-"

The her of a week, a year, or ten years ago would never have considered or understood the actions the her of this moment took. She was already on her feet and moving toward Roy before Hicks had even finished, trying desperately not to break into a run. When she reached him, she expressed her relief at finding him whole and unharmed, in the only way that seemed appropriate at that moment... No, the her of the past would not have understood _at all_...

.o0o.

He hadn't needed to be told twice. Beating a hasty retreat from the much perturbed Staff Sargent, he soon arrived at the small civilian refugee encampment that the military had set up. It wasn't far from the former prison camp they currently occupied, and as he rounded the corner of a tent, he spied Winry perched on the edge of an empty wooden crate, her face haggard.

Hicks stood before her, his right hand resting on her shoulder while the thumb of his left hooked under the strap of a rifle he wore slung over his shoulder. After a moment he looked up, noticing Mustang he spoke a few quiet words to her, and she too looked up, then stood so suddenly, Hicks had to fall back a step in order to avoid a collision.

Walking quickly towards him, she did not even break stride when she reached him. Instead she slammed into him bodily, throwing her arms around him. She held on tightly for a few moments, then finally looked up at him.

"No one knew where you were... I was afraid that... I thought... I don't know what I thought..."

He could see that she had been crying, and the knowledge that he'd hurt her once again, tore at him.

"Winry I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you this way. There just wasn't time to tell you last night. Anyway I had to be sure before I got your hopes up, but I am sure now... Winry I found them."

"Them?"

She looked confused for a moment, then her eyes grew wide as the light dawned, and she drew back half a step so she could see him more clearly.

"You really found them" She stated, though it was still a half question, as she still didn't quite seem to believe she'd really heard what she heard.

"I spoke with Ed last night."

"Last night... You mean they're _here_?"

"Yes, but there's something you need-"

She threw her arms around his neck, cutting him off, she kissed him... And mostly out of habit, combined with sheer surprise, he returned it. Not the chaste kiss of a friend, but a true kiss...

Even as it happened, he knew it was wrong, knew that her's had simply been a spontaneous reaction to such amazing news, and he was taking advantage. She likely would have responded the same way to Breda or even _Scar_, had they been the ones to deliver the news... But to his complete and utter amazement, instead of taking offense, she responded in kind, with an enthusiasm that astonished him. The sheer euphoria of it was such that it was almost a minute before he remembered him self.

He pulled away, and upon hearing her gasp, forced open the eyes he didn't even realize he'd shut. Despite the fact that she had initiated it, looking down into her eyes, he still expected to see disgust, but there was none... Just an air of wonder as her lips again drifted upward. He was only able to manage a startled 'Winry?' before her lips closed on his once more.

In that moment, any fortitude he might have had, crumbled to dust, and he surrendered wholeheartedly to the power of her kiss. He realized, what he wanted more than anything in the whole world was for this kiss to last forever. But it also revealed to him a truth he'd long denied... A truth so steeped in irony it was painful...

That he wanted her, could not be denied, but this amounted to far more than want... Though he could not allow it... Would not allow himself to even think it, let alone voice it... Though he'd buried it so deep for so long, that even he himself had been largely unaware of it... He'd _felt _it... Almost from the moment he'd first set eyes on her, and it terrified him...

A more cruel and improbable fate he could not have imagined then or now. It was the reason that, despite his guilt, he hadn't revealed himself to her at once. While he couldn't bring him self to lie to her, neither could he bring himself to tell her outright and see himself become the same monster in her eyes that he faced in the mirror each day... It had been agony when she eventually did learn the truth.

It had made the likelihood of his current position even more improbable, yet here he stood, and even more improbably still, _she_ had been the one to initiate it... His mind boggled as it luxuriated in the glory of this impossible kiss.

All to soon, though, it was over. When he opened his eyes again, she looked as shattered by this sudden turn of events, as he felt. Then, after another silent, breathless moment spent staring at one another, she suddenly turned. Pressing the back of her hand to her lips, she hurried away looking torn, leaving him standing there, rooted to the spot by the immensity of what had just happened...

.o0o.

Harper looked up from the inventory he'd been going over, as he heard the front door of the medical ward bang open and shut.

It was Carter.

He'd been dreading this visit since he'd seen him return to the camp alone, but now that the encounter was imminent, he found he no longer felt any fear of the outcome, only a bit of guilt for not having given Carter at least some warning of what they had planned... Even if it simply hadn't been feasible at the time.

Flipping closed the inventory, and laying his pencil down beside it, he stood to salute his friend and superior officer. At least, he thought idly as Carter entered the office, he hadn't brought the MP's.

"Drop it, Harper, you know I hate that crap." Carter said irritably, wasting no time with pleasantries. "Sit."

Obediently, Harper dropped the salute, and returned to his seat. Carter closed the door of the small office behind him, and took a seat on the duty officer's cot at the back of the office. Clearly he intended to waste no time with small talk either

"Goddammit, Harper, what the hell were you thinking? If anyone else knew about this, you'd probably be shot for treason..."

"Did he say anything at all to you about why he did it...?" Harper asked calmly.

Carter quirked an eyebrow, but after throwing him a longsuffering look, answered.

"Yeah, he fed me some cockamamie line about her being an orphan, but I didn't buy it then, and I still don't. There has to be more to it-"

"There is." Harper said quietly.

The unexpected answer drew Carter up short.

"What?"

Somewhat guiltily, and with a resigned sigh, Harper began quietly to tell the entire story Mustang had related to him in confidence just a few days prior.

"Jesus" Carter muttered under his breath when Harper had finished.

"What will you do?"

"What can I do?" He demanded harshly, his face pulling into a thin lipped grimace. "If I breath a word of this, let even the _slightest_ implication slip, you're both bound for the stockade, maybe even the firing squad..."

With a shake of his head, he gave a frustrated, growling sigh.

"What's done is done. Nothing seems the worse for it, so I'll let it go this once, but don't ever put me in this position again. And for the love of god, keep me in the loop next time, it would have been easy to get him in front of the Elrics legitimately, translating for them is the reason Buxton wanted him here in the first place!"

Shaking his head again, he rose.

"I'm headed to the mess. I need more coffee after the morning I've had, though I could really use something stronger. See me out?"

Harper stood and began to move, then paused, thinking the better of it.

"You're not going to hit me are you?"

Good humor now beginning to return, the question put a smirk on Carter's face.

"And spoil that baby face? Never..." He jibed, then sobering a bit, he continued. "Just keep it on the up and up from now on, ok... I don't ever want to have to tell your wife it was _us_ that did you in..."

.o0o.

_It was finally done. It had taken weeks, but he had finally finished repairing the array. _

_Breathing a sigh of relief, he sat back on his heels and set his knife down beside him. He allowed himself a few minutes to rest, then decided it was time for a test run to see if he had missed anything. _

_With care, he pulled on his gloves. He wasn't using fire this time, but they amplified his power none the less. He wasn't exactly sure how they managed it, it was something R&D had whipped up when they made them for him, but he supposed it was probably related to the way his state alchemist watch did... His watch! _

_He jammed his hands into his jacket pockets, and was relieved to find that unlike his wallet, which he'd forgotten in his desk drawer yet again (It was getting to be an annoying habit), the timepiece was ticking quietly away, safe where it belonged. He gave another sigh. Good, he had a feeling he was going to need all the help he could get... _

_Well it was now or never... Closing his eyes, he dipped his head and began to rub his palms together, __causing numerous tiny sparks to fly off the loaded fabric, as he focused on gathering the power to him, to them. When he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise, he took a quick, deep breath, then as he did, he opened his eyes and hands, and with a swift exhalation, slammed his palms down onto the line as it came back into focus. A jolt ran through him as the line began to glow. It was working! Finally, he began to feel real optimism about this project..._

.o0o.

It was early afternoon. He sat perched upon that same wooden crate where he'd found her this morning... He'd waited for hours, hoping she would come back. Eventually though, the exhaustion had overcome him, and he'd begun to doze. Now, finally, she returned.

Putting a hand on his shoulder, she shook him into a mild consciousness.

"I want to see them." She said, when he'd lifted his head and managed, squintingly, to focus on her.

The sight of her face, not to mention the determination in her eyes and voice, might as well have been a splash of cold water, they were easily as effective, and brought him fully awake in an instant.

"What?" He said, eyes fully open now.

"I want to see them, Roy... I _need_ to see them."

He stood now, fighting the urge to yawn and stretch after the awkward cramped position he'd been in on the crate... This was too important for him to appear either relaxed or bored.

"Winry, there are some things you need to know-"

But she cut him off again as she had the first time he had tried to tell her, though not nearly as enjoyably this time.

"It can wait, Roy. I want to see them."

Now, the determination in her eyes had been joined by an overwhelming urgency that would not be denied.

He'd always felt a bit like a child before the schoolmaster when he was around her, and it had only gotten worse since they'd come here... He sighed, resigning himself to doing it her way... Perhaps it would be easier to show, rather then tell her. But he did not relish the thought of shocking her so, it seemed so unforgivably cruel... One look in her eyes, though, told him she would have it no other way...

"Very well, I'll see what I can do, but I make no promises... I'm not exactly in Carter's good graces at the moment." He added under his breath, but she didn't seem to notice, instead she thanked him briefly, then hurried him off.

.o0o.

A short while later he had explained the situation to Carter who, while still clearly upset over the events of the morning, was remarkably more receptive to his request than he had dared to hope. He was eventually able to work out with the Sargent, that though they could not allow her to visit them, the brothers were given time out of doors for exercise each day. So she would at least be able to see the boys- Men, he corrected him self.

It was hard for him to come to terms with how they had changed. While it had only been a few hours since he'd found out, he doubted even the passage of years would allow him to grow used to what had happened...

In any case, she would not be able to speak with them, and he doubted that would completely appease Winry, but at least seeing them from a distance might at soften the blow a bit. Even so, he did his best to prepare her as they walked towards the camp a little later that afternoon.

"They are not the same as you remember them, Winry, a great deal of time has passed for them here, and in the harshest of conditions."

But she would not hear of it. She accused him of exaggerating the facts, and try as he might, he could not convince her otherwise.

"Honestly, Mustang, you make it sound as if decades have passed, its only been a few years."

He winced at her choice of words, but realized there would be no convincing her, at least not until she had seen them with her own two eyes. Dejectedly, he hung his head, but held his tongue as they walked into the camp. She would just have to see for her self.

Carter was waiting for them outside to escort them through the gate. Once inside, he had given them directions, then issued a harsh final warning to them both, not to speak to the prisoners, or loiter too long near the fence, lest they risk being detained.

With that final warning, he left them, and they began to meander their way toward the fenced in yard where, Carter had told them, they would find one or both of the brothers. As they reached it, they observed an older man with a limp, slowly pacing the perimeter of the fence. Clearly still not believing, what Mustang had tried to tell her, she all but looked through the man, searching the yard for the boys she had known.

It was not until the sound of the gate opening caused him to look in their direction, that she saw him, _truly _saw him, for the first time. The recognition that registered in his steel blue eyes relayed that, despite the years and the hardships that had heaped upon him, he still remembered her. She took an involuntary step back at the force of his gaze. Her hand, shaking badly, rose unconsciously to cover her mouth.

"That... That can't be... Alphonse...?"

She'd barely breathed his name, then as it escaped her lips, Winry did a most _Un_-Winry like thing...

Right there and then she fainted dead away.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.

_**AN: **__Well that's it for this installment, thanks again for your patience and thanks for the lovely reviews, they always make my day so __**please keep 'em coming**__!_

_A little historical background for those of you that are interested... The forced labor camp mentioned in the previous chapters was meant to portray a fictional rail depot and satellite camp of the very real Mittelbau-Dora camp network. This particular grouping of camps, situated mostly in underground bunkers built by the prisoners, was responsible for producing most of the V2 rockets that rained down terror on London in the latter part of the war. It was one of the last camps liberated (less than a month before Hitler committed suicide), and only about a tenth of the prisoners still remained there when it was, because unlike the guards of some other camps who saw the writing on the wall and chose simply to run, the SS and Gestapo officers running these camps remained until nearly the last minute, trying to carry out the order to evacuate or exterminate all remaining prisoners ahead of the allied advance. _


	7. Chapter 7: Found and Lost

_**A/N: **I sincerely apologize for how late this update is. That being said, I hope the content helps to make up for my long absence from the story. **Warning!** This is another one of the chapters that earns the rating I gave this fic, so please take that into consideration before you start reading._

_As always a special thanks to my most wonderful beta reader **Zonkiethegreat** , and a most heartfelt thankyou to all that reviwed and favorited this story, I hope it continues to live up to your expectations. So without further ado..._

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

_**Chapter 7**_

_**Found and Lost**_

It was so unexpected, and happened so suddenly, that it was a wonder Mustang managed to catch her at all. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Al press himself against the fence.

Clearly he was concerned, and he wasn't the only one. A couple of the men from the squad had also begun to move in their direction as he swung her limp form up into his arms.

He had expected her to react, but not this badly. Though in hindsight, he wasn't at all certain how he _had_ expected her to react. Looking down into her face, though it was quite pale, he could see she was breathing normally.

"She's alright." He said, mostly addressing the men, but speaking loudly enough that Al, who had now been joined by his brother, would be able to hear.

He turned back toward the main gate, the brothers watching as he passed. Al, looking quite distraught, gripped the fence tightly, clearly feeling helpless...

Ed, on the other hand, stood back, seemingly aloof from the events unfolding before him.

Roy knew this had long been his way, and it was really no indicator of his internal emotions, but at that moment, the distant look in Ed's eyes truly enraged him...

For the first time since the start of this whole mess, Mustang began to feel real anger towards someone other than himself... Them, _both_ of them. Because it was specifically their abandonment of her that had made necessary all that she had been through up to this point.

He knew that he had never been a friend to her, despite his best intentions. But these boys, these _MEN_, were supposed to be two of her dearest friends, and he could not help but be infuriated by what they had done to bring about this ordeal, hypocritical though he knew it was...

He'd almost made it back to the main gate when Harper caught up to them. Having been informed by those men present, what had happened, he had hurried to intercept them.

With some difficulty, Mustang swallowed his anger and slowed his pace to match that of this man who had become a real friend to him.

"Where you headed?"

"Back to the camp, she needs to rest."

"Well, if a bed's all you're looking for, don't go all the way back there, just bring her to the medical unit. Its cleaner, and you know the guys would never let anything happen to her." He said with a wholly ingratiating smile.

"Really?" Roy asked, already feeling a bit more at ease.

"Sure, there's only a skeleton crew here right now anyway. Most of the medical personnel are over at that camp helping out the red cross, so no one'll bother you"

After a moment's consideration Mustang nodded his assent, and the two men changed course. He followed Harper into the building that served as the medical ward, and was shown to an out of the way cot in the cavernous main room. Ever the gentlemen, Harper moved a free standing screen over to afford them some privacy.

It was hardly necessary, though. At present, aside from Harper, who quickly busied himself in a small windowed office off the main room, they were completely alone.

Carefully laying Winry in the cot, his own exhaustion began to weigh heavily on him. Seeing no chair immediately available and lacking the energy to hunt one down, he sunk to the plank wood floor, leaning against the wall near the head of the cot. Turning slightly, he folded his arms, resting them on the edge of the cot, and his head on them. It wasn't long before he too was sound asleep.

.o0o.

Disoriented, and with no memory of how precisely she had gotten there, she awoke in a room completely foreign to her... In a moment she would long to return to this blissful ignorance, but for now she cursed the fog of her confusion...

The sound of deep, gentile breathing drew her attention down to where she discovered Mustang sitting propped against the wall. His head, cradled in his own crossed arms, lay upon the edge of her cot. With a speed that was almost painful, the memories began to return...

It had barely registered in her mind at the time, the lack of elation in Roy's voice...

His delivery of such supposedly good news, had been most severely understated, even by mustang's standards... And in hindsight, she realized that should have been her first clue as to what was to follow... But she had been far too excited at the time, to notice such subtle nuances.

Not only was _he_ alive and safe, but he also claimed to have found Ed and Al... Suddenly all the world was light and rainbows, with her most unlikely hero at it's center... Looking back now, she thought that might have been the first time he had tried outright to warn her, but she'd cut him off.

Like an excited child she'd thrown her arms around his neck, and in a show of appreciation that had surprised her as much as it had him, pressed her lips to his in a most heart felt kiss... She knew now that had been about the moment her world turned upside down, because it had suddenly become so much more than she had intended.

Excited, and perhaps a bit over zealous, she had expected the kiss to be a simple show of her excitement at the joyful news, but it didn't turn out that way at all...

The moment their lips touched, the wheels of something much larger were set in motion... Her heart paused mid-step only to break into a sprint a moment later. Unable to catch her breath, she clung fiercely to him in an attempt to keep balance on legs now made achy and weak by the adrenalin coursing through her veins. Dizzied by the contact she'd become lost... It was jarring when he finally broke the kiss.

_Was it supposed to feel like that?_

That he looked no less startled than she felt, was a fact she found strangely reassuring, and in that single moment apart, the one thing she was very much aware of, was that she wanted more...

Her body, already a step ahead of her mind, was well on its way back to him. The next kiss was everything the first had been and more... But it was wrong.

Her heart warring with itself, it was she who pulled away from him this time.

_How could she do this? _

Why? The boys she'd thought lost to her forever were nearly back in her arms again. Why had she done this?

Before she knew it, she was backing away, trying to figure out why this had happened... _How _it had happened...

It wasn't his fault, _not at all_, but she found it hard not to break into a run as she fled from him... But the box was already open, there was no closing that door now... no running or hiding from what it had revealed... And most importantly no stopping it now that it was free...

Shocked, lost, confused, she wandered the camp for hours. At first she was afraid he would chase after her, as her thoughts about him had done so efficiently, but as seconds stretched into minutes she realized that he hadn't, and more importantly, that he wouldn't... Still she kept a healthy distance from their new abode as she tried to get her jumbled, racing thoughts in order.

It was hours before, unsure of her self, but sure of what she needed to do, she returned. Again, she now thought, he'd tried to warn her, but just as she had before, she'd turned a deaf ear, too focused on her own inner turmoil, to see his uneasiness as anything more than the same confusion she felt...

He'd gone off as she asked, and when he returned to escort her to them, he'd tried once more to tell her of what was to come, but even though he had succeeded that time, she still failed comprehend the immensity of what he was trying to tell her... At least that was, until she locked eyes with the old man in the fenced in yard, limping weakly around it's perimeter.

Finally, she understood... It was ironic that a moment born of her fondest dreams could leave her feeling more alone than ever before. Hungry, tired, and shaken to the core, her mind had buckled under the weight of it, carrying her mercifully into the darkness.

But unconsciousness was no longer a mercy available to her, and now it seemed loneliness was truly destined to be her lot... Time and war had joined distance and fate in seeking to divide her from the boys she had loved so dearly as a girl, and now it seemed her apt misfortune to find love in the heart of the one man kept even more distant from her than the Elrics... With the history that lay between them, what hope did she really have of being excepted into his heart, finding solace in his arms?

Quietly she rolled into the only position that might offer her a modicum of privacy, careful not to wake him. She barely made it before the tears began to flow...

.o0o.

He awoke to the sound of quiet sobs. Outside it was dusk, and the hall had grown quite dark. As such, it took him a few seconds to figure out where he was, or who it was the sounds could be coming from...

_ Winry. Another nightmare?_

He sat upright, and just barely through the gloom, was able to make out her form. She'd rolled onto her side, turning her back to him, and he watched her shoulders shudder in time to her breath.

It stabbed at him to hear it... This was no nightmare. When she cried in her sleep, she never tried to hide her tears as she was now.

How long had she been awake? How long had she been crying?

_ Too long_.

He reached out to lay a hand gently on her arm.

"Winry?"

She stiffened a moment, then relaxed and turned toward him. Her face shone in the soft light that spilled from the office window.

"What's left, Roy? Is there _anything_ left? Our world, our friends, your power to get us home, all gone... Ed and Al have grown old, and they are prisoners from the wrong side of war I can't even begin to understand, that makes them good as gone _again_... Tell me, what is left? How do I keep on living if there's _nothing_ left?"

He could see the stress of it, the weight of it all pressing down on her, finally taking it's toll... Even more so than the day he had seen her beside Maes' grave, she seemed almost transparently fragile. The fissures that had for a time, begun to heal, now deepening, the fractures widening. It seemed that at any moment she would crumble irretrievably into dust, and thanks to Ed's determination to remain here, he had little aside from more bad news to offer her... But he'd be damned if he'd just sit here and watch as she fell.

"I'm here, Winry. I won't leave-"

"Don't say that! They _all_ said that, my parents, Ed, Al, even my grandmother...They all made those promises, and they're _still gone_!"

It came out as an angry half sob, but it was better than the utter despair that had held it's place just a moment ago. He rose to sit on the edge of the cot, and pulled her into his arms. She didn't resist it, she barely seemed to notice the action at all.

"Don't give up, Winry, please don't give up..." He said softly, his lips so close to her ear, that her hair brushed them as several strands fluttered in the passage of his breath. "I know it's not what you'd hoped for, but I'm here, Winry, I'm still here..."

After a while her tears began to subside, and she pulled away slightly to look up at him... Her face drawn, she did not meet his eyes as she said in a ragged voice.

"I'm sorry-"

"For what." He said gently, cutting her off. "Winry, I'm the last person you should _ever_ have to apologize to."

She gave him a weak smile, then turned her head to rest it back against his chest. He started to stroke her hair. With out much conscious thought, his head began to dip. Resting his pursed lips against the top of her head, he planted a gentle kiss there, inhaling deeply as he did. Allowing his eyes to drift shut as the scent of her washed over him, he lay his cheek against her hair relishing it's softness.

Feeling her move, he opened his eyes once more, only to find her face enticingly close to his. Her lips he found particularly entrancing. They wove a spell around him that he found exceedingly hard to resist, and he discovered that he was not really in a resisting mood.

Giving way to their pull, he closed the distance, and was pleasantly surprised by her response. Entangling the fingers of one hand in his hair she pulled him closer, deeper into the kiss. In short order, those of the other hand began to labor nimbly at the buttons of his ill fitting shirt. Seeing as she had left _her_ hands to their own devices, he hesitated only the barest of moments before allowing his own to follow suit, ranging over her body, though he remained ever vigilant for the slightest signs of reticence.

An experienced lover, he allowed her to forge the path ahead, determining just how far down it they would travel. It was quite the most enjoyable game of follow the leader he had ever participated in, and for a time they were each able to forget where and who they were...

Sliding his hand beneath the hem of her shirt to explore the flesh concealed there, he became frustrated by the constrictions of the fabric, so retreating, they attacked the buttons. A split second later he was rewarded with her assistance. Before long the offending garment fell away, abandoned at the side of the path they now traveled, as it surrendered to him a most glorious view.

With little hesitation, he slid a hand up to cup one creamy mound, hungrily devouring it's rosy tip. Sighing, he weighed the other in his hand, letting his thumb flick over it's peak as she arched offering more of herself to him. Her hands, of their own volition, again wove themselves into his hair.

Groaning he he finally willed himself to release that hard pink tip for a moment, and gently pressed her back onto the cot as he kissed and licked a winding trail down her smooth flat abdomen. Her hands gripped tighter and tighter as he moved lower. Then as he dallied around her navel, her movements became frenzied.

She suddenly released her grip and sat up, her insistent hands now helping to relieve them both of the rest of their clothing, before reasserting their grip on his hair, by dragging him up to meet her in another deep, soul searching kiss.

Then he was joining her on the cot, covering her. Pressing his knee between hers, he urged them apart, and took his place between them. Leaning up on one elbow, he again brushed his fingers across her nipple, listened to her sharp intake of breath, and watched her eyes squeeze shut in pleasure, then laid his hand beside her and pressed his torso upward. Positioned at her entrance, he luxuriated in the feel as he began to slip in. She was deliciously hot and quite slick from their combined ministrations, and so exquisitely tight... But as he moved further he encountered a resistance and felt her stiffen beneath him, whimpering quietly.

That brought his eyes open and his head fourth from where he'd thrown it back in surrender to the sensation. He looked down into a face where ecstasy had been replaced by pain, her lower lip trapped in the vice of her teeth, eyes tightly shut, and he went still, cursing himself a fool for having thought any different.

Returning to himself from the strange amnesia that had enveloped them both, he began to pull away.

He should not be her first, _would not_ be her first. It was criminal to even consider it. More than that, it was sacrilege... But as he began to retreat, he felt her arms encircling him, entrapping him

"Please..."

He looked down once again, noting the shiny trail left behind by a tear as it traversed her temple and slid into her hairline. Her eyes were open and glimmering now.

"...Don't stop..."

Her look was imploring, as he stroked the side of her face, catching a tear as he did.

"Please don't leave me too..." She whispered, he searched her eyes.

"You really want this..." ..._from me? _He left the last part unspoken, though it was what he meant.

She nodded mutely up at him, her movements becoming more desperate as she continued to pull at him. He looked deep into her eyes, but her intentions were written clearly there... Her wants, her _needs_...

He lowered himself, covering her again, as his lips met hers. Her one hand came to rest between his shoulder blades holding him tightly to her, the other was at the back of his head pulling him closer, deeper, as though she wished to consume him rather than simply kiss him.

She was becoming impatient with him, but he wanted to wait until she had calmed some, before beginning again. In her frustration, she tried buck, but he wrapped one arm around her waist and the other across her back to grip the opposite shoulder, using his weight and strength to keep her still as he continued the excruciating pace. Slowly sliding into her he met the resistance once again, and heard her whimper quietly as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. He paused again

"You're sure?" he murmured into her ear, she said nothing but he felt her nod against his shoulder.

This time he did not question himself, she had made her wants clear and he could not help but give in to them. Pushing forward he moved until he felt the resistance fall away. She went rigid under him and her arms becoming vice-like around him as her head pressed back into the pillow and she let out a quiet keening moan from the back of her throat. He remained still... Waiting patiently for her to make the first move, he listened to her breathing.

In a few moments, it returned to a more normal pace and he felt her hips tip up as her hands resumed their pleading pull. Releasing her from his embrace he rose up, pressing himself more deeply into her and she gasped then gave contented sigh. As he now began his slow retreat, he heard her whimper, and dipped his head to capture the tip of her breast in his mouth suckling for a moment then teasingly catching the nipple in his teeth, he gently tugged at it. She arched, pressing her head as deeply into the pillow as it would go, she began to pant. At that moment he released it and thrust forward again, watching her face contort not in pain as it had the first time, but in ecstasy and shared in it, as she came to life beneath him.

Gripping the sheets in her fists, as he began to quicken the pace, she began to buck her hips up to meet his, then reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. Conforming her body to his, as they began to move in concert, each pushing the other closer to the inevitable conclusion...

In all his life, he would never have believed he could find such happiness, such _comfort_, in the arms of Winry Rockbell... It was amazing, _She _Was amazing...

But it was more than that... it was more than just the ecstasy he felt being with her... It was the unexpected joy of knowing the words she'd said to him had not_ just _been words... She truly had forgiven him... And he was sure to make his appreciation evident in every movement, as he drove her to the edge, then over it...

.o0o.

They lay together in the cot, she in his arms, such a comfortable fit. As her hand played over his abdomen, he felt the half numb tingle as her fingers brushed the saber scar that marred it, one of many scars he bore.

"Bradly gave you this?" She inquired without lifting her head from his shoulder.

"Yes"

Her hand stilled for a moment.

"Sheska said he nearly killed you" she said this quite softly, he lifted his head and nodded

"It was a close thing"

Now she looked up at him a pensively

"He was a homunculus, one of _the homunculus_?"

He nodded

"You knew that at the time?"

Again he nodded, beginning to wonder where this was going

"And yet you still chose to face him alone?"

He nodded a third time, but she was fed up with his non-answers

"Why?"

He considered this a minute before answering

"Well, to start with, I wasn't entirely alone, Riza was there, but even if she hadn't been, I still would have done it"

"But why?"

"Maes."

Her eyes softened now in understanding,

"Was he the one responsible?" She asked quietly, but he shook his head

"I don't think so, though it's quite likely he was involved in the decision..."

He shook his head again sadly.

"No, he was not the one, but he was the head of the snake we'd been fighting, the same snake that killed Maes, and I knew if I could bring him down then maybe I could accomplish at least part of what we started, even if it wasn't exactly how we'd planned it in the beginning... If I killed their figurehead, then maybe there could be a chance for peace."

Now he smiled softly down at her

"And it worked."

She returned the smile for a moment, but she was finally getting the answers she'd never gotten before and she wanted to know more

"But how were you able to manage it, I thought they were all but invincible..."

Now it was his turn to look pensive... While he hardly regretted returning Bradly to the dust, he did regret how dearly his son had paid for it. With a sad smile and a sigh, he answered simply.

"Dumb luck"

Then without elaborating any further, he changed the subject, and for once she let it go...

"When I told you... When I told you I'd lost my alchemy, you didn't seem all that surprised,...when did you know?"

She seemed almost startled by the question... That and a touch guilty. She averted her eyes for a moment.

"That you'd lost your alchemy?..."

Repeating his question, she sighed, then glancing up giving him a serious look.

"I'd had my suspicions since the very first night, but when did I know?"

He nodded, and she looked down seeming to think she might find the answer hidden somewhere in the lines and folds of her palm... Finally, haltingly, she answered.

"I knew the morning that man came into our camp... Ed told me how swiftly and decisively you dealt with that man, that _terrorist_, who attacked the train when they first came to central... So when that man came into our camp, held a gun to me, and you did _not_ act... That's when I saw the fear in your eyes, that's when I knew..."

After this he was silent for a very long time, then drawing a deep breath, he broke his silence

"I have _never_ felt as helpless as I did in that clearing... If we'd been back home, it would have been over in a second, but I was lax, relied too much on alchemy and it left me sorely unprepared for this world... But it was so easy.

"Alchemy's reliable, predictable, and with the exception of rain I knew I could control every factor, achieve any result I desired, any result I required... say I saw two people embracing, if I so chose, I could end the life of one with out so much as singeing the other, so great was the extent of my control."

He shook his head bitterly "A gun is not nearly so predictable, you barely have any control at all... will it misfire- will the bullet hit, miss, ricochet - if you miss- or you hit and it passes through your target- how far will it travel?- and more importantly, _most _importantly- what or _who _else might it hit in it's travels?... Guns are messy, horrible, unpredictable things, but here that's all there is, and moreover they seem to live by them... We've been lucky so far, but luck won't save us every time, I have to adapt, or it may not be long before we die by one..."

His face had grown quite grim as he delivered this revelation, and she was truly sorry for it... but then another thought occurred to her

"Well, I am glad you failed on at least one account" She said quietly.

Not sure if he'd heard her correctly, his eyebrows drew together questioningly

"Pardon?"

She lifted her eyes to meet his, the look in them entirely genuine as she answered.

"You said you tried to bring them back... I'm glad you failed."

His heart stuttered for a moment at the mention of his attempt

"Why, wouldn't you have wanted them back?" he asked quietly, still wondering at her statement.

"I did once, but not in hindsight, not like that... If we'd have had to face them like that... As homunculus... I don't think either one of us would have survived"

He could not argue with the wisdom of her statement. The gift he'd tried to give in penance, likely _would _have killed them both... silently he nodded his head in agreement.

Then, though the silence stretched out between them, it was not an uncomfortable silence. Content to let it continue, he relaxed into the pillows, pulling her closer as she curled against his side.

.o0o.

She had drifted back to sleep, and he too had begun to doze, when the sound of a door opening at the back of the building roused him. It was followed by the sound of approaching foot steps... At least two people.

He just managed to pull the blanket up to better cover her, when the screen was abruptly pulled aside revealing Harper and Carter. While both looked surprised, Carter, to his credit, at least had the decency to look somewhat abashed. Harper, on the other hand had no such quibbles, failing utterly to suppress a self satisfied grin as he took in the scene before him.

It was a moment before Carter was able to compose himself, but after unnecessarily clearing his throat several times, he quietly requested Mustang's presence outside as soon as possible, then quickly pulled the screen back to it's previous position. He heard their footsteps retreat back the way they had come, then just before the door clicked shut, he heard Carter mutter.

"Wipe that smile off your face, Harper, you knew it was bound to happen sooner or later..."

With the greatest reluctance, he slid his arm from beneath her head. Dressing quietly, he slipped away leaving her to sleep. At the back of the ward he found the door they had come through, and just outside it they waited, breaths steaming in the chill night air.

A low, ominous, rumble of thunder greeted him as he stepped outside, signaling an unexpected change in the weather

"So what's this about" He asked when he'd closed the door.

The fact that Harper's grin had completely disappeared by the time he got there, left him feeling suddenly uneasy, and the somber glance the two exchanged next, did nothing to quell it.

"Bad news, I'm afraid..."

Carter paused for a moment, but went on before Mustang had a chance to ask what it was.

"Roy, our proximity to the front lines is making the higher ups nervous. They've decided to move the Elrics to a location they feel is more secure... It's happening tonight, and we'll be accompanying them..."

"Alright?" Mustang answered hesitantly, sensing there was more.

"The rest of the personnel from this camp as well as the refugees will likely begin relocating sometime tomorrow, but it is unlikely they will be headed for the same destination..."

That was bad news... Mustang thought for a moment, trying to come up with some sort of way to stay with the brothers. He vaguely recalled Buxton having said that the prisoners had yet to speak to any of the liberating troops, maybe he could use that to his advantage...

"Perhaps you could convince them to keep me on as a translator" He suggested hopefully, Winry would be crushed if she got this close just to lose them again.

The two exchanged another weighty glance then with a sigh Carter continued

"That's not the problem, Roy. Buxton actually requested you. He said it's because the military translator hasn't gotten here yet, but to be honest, I think it's more than that, I think he wants to keep an eye on you since you know so much already..."

Breaking off, he let out a sigh before continuing

"The real problem is Winry. This is going to be a bare bones operation, no nonessential personnel... Roy, she'll have to stay behind in the refugee camp"

Not since the first day, had it ever occurred to him that they might try to split them up... The very idea of leaving her behind, especially now, chilled him to the core.

"No... NO! I can't leave her, I promised her I wouldn't..."

Carter looked grim.

"I'm sorry, Roy, truly I am, but I don't think Buxton plans to give you a choice... Hopefully he'll release you once the translator arrives"

"But how in the hell will I find her again when- _IF_- you let me go?" Mustang cried

"I'm sorry, it's not my decision-"

Devastated and furious, Mustang slammed the side of his fist against the wall, cutting Carter off

"I know," He said bitterly through clenched teeth. "_you're just following orders_"

Carter probably couldn't have looked more shocked if Mustang had slapped him... but it didn't last long...His eyes narrowed and his lips thinned, but his voice retained the same deadly calm Mustang recalled from the first day. The one that had helped to propel him to his current rank.

"You know that I would change it if I could" He said through gritted teeth.

Knowing it was the truth, Mustang fell heavily against the side of the building. The first fat, icy, drops began their assault, throwing up little puffs of dust as they drove down into the dry earth. Head in his hands, he sunk down the clapboard facade to the ground, mindful of what was quickly becoming a down pour. The irony of it wasn't lost on him...

Rain always seemed to accompany the times he failed her, the times he hurt her... That night in Ishbal a freak storm, the likes of which no one had seen in years, had rolled in. It had lashed the city for days afterward, causing flooding along with further destruction and misery the Ishbalins hardly needed... Then who could forget the night he'd planted the seed that Ed and Al might become State Alchemists... He'd been soaked to the skin from standing in the rain, first outside their house, then outside her's... This simply completed the trifecta...

He felt like he was back in that clearing, only this felt worse... It would be hard enough for her, losing them again, but for him to leave her alone now as well... This couldn't be happening, not now... It was unthinkable, _unconscionable_.

His hands fell limply into his lap, and he stared at them, longing for the power that once flowed through them, but it would have done him no good anyway. Rainwater had begun to pour off the eves, soaking him through and through. This too seemed cruelly appropriate. Useless... he was completely and utterly useless.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a person in one of those camps at all, let alone, after they have moved, after they have been consolidated into another camp? Try impossible! and who will protect her? It's not as if she has anyone else!"

Harper now stepped forward, breaking his silence.

"I'm sorry, Roy... If I'd known then, that it would come to this, I never would have asked for your help"

"Isn't there anything you can do? At least keep her with _this _camp, maybe she could help the medical staff when they return... If the front's as close as you say, they'll have their hands full with wounded soon enough... They'll need all the help they can get... Right?"

If he thought he could have fought his way out of this, he would have, but he knew when he was outmatched... He'd never felt so alone in his life. Maes had kept him sane by giving him a purpose, and after he died, the need for vengeance against his killers had done it, but when that had been accomplished only she had remained... now they were coming to pry her away, the only pillar left holding him up out of the pit that had become his life in the days and months after Ishbal... And he could do nothing to stop it.

"I will go with you willingly, I swear, I only need to know that she will be safe"

He looked pleadingly up at Carter, who sighed.

"I can't make any Promises, but I'll try..."

He looked dubious, but it was the only straw Mustang had left to grasp at and he intended to hold onto it with all his might.

Drenched by the rain that continued to pour down, plastering his hair flat against his skull, he forced himself to stand. He wished it could numb his mind and his heart the way it's chill numbed his skin.

"How long do I have?"

"Two, maybe three hours at the most." Carter said apologeticly.

He felt a prickle at the corner of his eyes... Unshed tears... He could have loosed them now, under the cover of the rain, and no one would have been the wiser, but what would be the point... He gave a quick resigned nod then turned to go back inside but as he did Harper suddenly grabbed his arm

"Wait"

But he did not look back

"Please, Harper, I don't know how I'm going to tell her, but if I don't do it now I may not have it in me to do it at all..."

Harper did not release his arm.

"Roy, Stop!"

Something in his tone made Mustang look back.

"What's going on in that head, Harper" Carter demanded sharply.

"Maybe nothing" Harper replied vaguely as Roy now turned to fully face him.

"What you suggested just now, that Winry help with the wounded. Did you mean to imply that she's done it before? That she has medical training?"

Carter now fixed them both with a critical eye.

"Where's this going, Harper?" He inquired pointedly, but Harper ignored him, still focused on Mustang

"Yes," He answered warily "She and her grandmother took care of amputees, the majority were soldiers."

"Your sure of this?"

"The first time I met her was while she was caring for Edward... That was just a day after he lost his leg and arm."

Harper suddenly turned from him

"We need to go" He said, grabbing Carter's arm

"Go? Go where? Explain yourself Harper"

"No time"

With that Harper charged off into the darkness, veritably dragging Carter behind him as he went.

.o0o.

She'd been woken by loud thump on the wall beside the cot. Outside she could hear the muffled voices of Harper, Carter, and..._ Roy_... Her heart sped a bit and a flush came over her at the thought of him...

She could not make out what they were saying over the steady patter of now falling rain, but something about their tone left her extremely uneasy, like she ought to be ready to run on a moment's notice. It was worrisome enough that she threw back the covers and began quickly to retrieve and don her clothing.

She was just pulling on her socks when she heard the rear door bang, announcing his return. He was soaked from the rain, and his face seemed to confirm her fears, but she did her best to maintain a measure of optimism, despite her misgivings... In a moment she would know it had all been for naught.

.o0o.

When they had gone, Mustang went back inside, hoping to slip back into bed, to feel the warmth of her beside him, if only for just a little while longer... Perhaps he might even have fallen asleep and when he woke to find her in his arms, this would all have been some guilt constructed nightmare... But it was not to be, when he returned he found her awake and dressing... the spell was broken, There would be no reprieve. He sighed taking a seat next to her on the cot as she pulled her boots on.

"So what did they want?" she asked distractedly as she pulled the laces of her left boot tight and tied them.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, as the rain pattered steadily on outside. He swallowed the lump in his throat

"They're getting ready to move Ed and Al. Apparently, how close this place is to the front is making the higher ups nervous..."

She froze, looking strickened for a moment, boots now forgotten. As the implications of what he'd said sunk in, he prayed that Harper and Carter might succeed in performing a miracle... What ever it might be... But all the same he knew he had to prepare her for the worst. Men like Buxton were unpredictable at best, especially when it came to taking chances...

"Buxton wants me along, he says it's, because their translator hasn't shown up yet, but I think more likely it's because he doesn't entirely trust me."

She looked confused by his somber tone

"But that's good, isn't it?" She asked tentatively, he shook his head solemnly.

"He _only_ wants me, at the moment he's insisting you stay behind with the refuges..."

Visibly shocked, she blinked rapidly a few times as she processed this. As it had been with him, she likewise had never considered the possibility they might be split up...

"Tell him you won't go" she blurted, sounding half panicked "you _can't_ go, You promised me you wouldn't"

His heart broke anew at her words

"I don't think he's going to give me a choice, if I don't go willingly I'll probably wind up going in chains..."

She shot to her feet and began to pace.

"He can't do this, it's not right!"

He held up his hands trying to placate her, speaking gently but firmly.

"I think Carter and Harper have gone to try and talk to him..."

But she did not stop her rapid pacing. He stood, stepping into her path, catching her wrists, he stilled her motion mid stride.

"I believe they will succeed," He said softly, bending slightly at the waist so he could look her directly in the eyes... But he did not feel any where near as confidant as he hoped he sounded, and she did not look convinced... If anything she looked shattered... And why shouldn't she? She'd rarely known anything but disappointment in her young life, and that was evidenced in her next comment

"How?... How can you believe that"

Shaking her head warily, she tried to turn away from him, started to pull away from him, both physically and emotionally, But he pulled her back.

"Because I have to... Because if I didn't believe that something good might finally come of this, I don't think I could survive..."

.o0o.

The sensation of his warm breath brushing over her face as he spoke about belief, was agonizingly sweet. By some miracle, he had opened his heart to her, welcomed her in spite of all that had come before...

She wouldn't lie, being with him was painful. But she found it was not a hollow pain, one that would go on aching until the end of time. That was a pain she was intimately familiar with, but no, this was a pain that felt like it might heal, might fade away, someday, given the chance. Would they ever be given that chance?

She buried her face in his chest, balling the cold, wet, fabric of his ill fitting shirt into her fists as she clung to him, weeping as she had the day she'd learned of her parent's deaths. Though she now wept for the instrument of their destruction, because she understood now that this in fact, was all that boy soldier had ever been... An instrument of a much greater evil, and when those childish illusions of heroic deeds had been shattered by the true nature of war, he had turned and become the instrument of that evil's destruction...

That hardly made it 'all better', but it made how strongly she felt about him, bearable... She'd once heard it said that there were no atheists in war. Now she knew that statement to be true, as she found herself praying with all her heart, begging the gods who's existence she'd once renounced, not to take the only love she had left away...


	8. Chapter 8: Time to Go

_Hello...? Is anyone still there...?_

_I know I have said it before, but I will apologize again for the sloth like pace this story has taken on, and attempt to reassure you that I will not leave you hanging forever. In fact, the end is in sight, only a couple more chapters to go! So without further ado... on with the show!_

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

_**Chapter 8**_

_**Time to Go**_

She sat beside him on the cot, her heart felt like it was in a million tiny pieces, but she was cried out, she had no more tears left. As she leaned heavily against him, she thought he may have cried also, but it was difficult to tell, soaked as he was from the rain. He would catch his death if he went with them like that...

Without much thought, she began to unbutton his shirt. Her mood had changed drastically since the last time she'd done it... Finishing with the buttons, she pealed the thin fabric away from his clammy skin and shook it out before hanging it above the small iron heating stove to dry. When she returned from that errand, she took his still quite damp pants, leaving him standing by the cot in only his shorts, as she hung them to dry by his shirt.

When she returned this time, he'd sat back down on the edge of the cot. She noticed that despite his best attempts to control it, he had begun to tremble. It was the addition of cold, to the mixture of hunger and exhaustion they both felt, that had finally done him in. When he looked up at her from his seat, she could see the shame he felt from this perceived weakness, reflected in his sad eyes. She ran her fingers through his hair, smoothing it back from his face, though it was still damp, at least it was no longer dripping...

Once upon a time, she had dreamed of doing these things for Edward, of caring for Edward the way she now cared for him..._Once_... It seemed so very long ago...

She had little to offer him now, in the way of comfort... She had no food to feed him, and she could not conjure up an eight extra hours of sleep for him, but her warmth she could share, and share she did.

He made no move to resist or protest when she laid her hands on his shoulders and pressed him back onto the cot... Pulling the blanket up over them both, she lay down beside him. His arms slid around her once more, and she kissed his chest, tasting the salty remnants of her own tears as she did.

Their lovemaking this time was not as frenzied as it had been the first time, then their actions had been spurred on by need, now they were tempered by fear... Now she wanted nothing more than to feel, savor, _remember. _He seemed to be of the same mind.

Running her hands out across the expanse of his chest, she more closely examined the scars that marred it... The ones that had made him a man she'd once hated, then forgiven, then come to respect, and finally to love. Their entire fatally entwined history had been carved into the planes of his body, the same way it had been branded onto her soul. As her hand grazed across his breastbone she felt a strong steady rhythm against her fingertips... Undeniable proof.

There was a time, not long enough ago, when she would have sworn by all that was holy in this world and the next, that he didn't have one... That it didn't exist.

But it did...

It was a fragile thing, scarred many times over, and broken more times than she could ever know... Even so, she hoped it was not beyond repair.

Responding to her touch, his hands moved low across her ribcage, raising goosebumps in their wake. Still new to these sensations, her body felt as though it was made up of a million tiny match heads, each set alight, one by one, by the friction of his touch. Then his hands slowed, passing gently over the spot where that horrible man had gouged in the barrel of his gun. It had darkened to a deep plum. She saw the pain in his eyes, the 'I'm sorry' on his lips as he dropped them down to lay a feather light kiss on the injury, perhaps in hopes that the act would somehow help to heal it.

Reaching down to cup his cheek in her hand, she lifted his face so she could brush her lips gently across his. She saw that same fear she'd seen in his eyes several times before, and she began to understand it. He was afraid of hurting her, it was a fear she found she now shared with him. They'd broken each others hearts so many times before it was difficult not to. So she did her best to quell his fears.

'Dog of the military'... that's what her grandmother had called him. It had been a curse spat at his feet, upon their first real meeting, some ten years ago. He truly did match at least part of that description, and perhaps it really was a curse after all. To love those he trusted so wholly and unconditionally, to want to protect them with all his strength and valor, even though it was sometimes well beyond his ability to do so... She knew now that she was one of the people he would fight, even die to protect, and realized with a strange clarity, that she had been for much longer than most. In fact, one of the few that had come before her, was the only other one he had failed... What pair they made.

.o0o.

"Harper, for the love of god, would you please tell me what's going on in your head?!... And stop pulling, I can walk just fine by my self!"

Harper did release his arm, but did not slow his pace.

"Carter, most of the medical staff is still out helping with the camp survivors. We're short staffed"

This came out in a rush, but he said it as if it explained every thing. Carter was having none of it.

"Yes, _short _staffed, not _UN_-staffed." He countered pointedly, but Harper seemed unfazed by it so he continued. "Buxton will never approve a civilian refugee when there's a perfectly good military alternative available"

Harper, not to be defeated, replied

"Normally, Carter, I would agree with you, but in this case we have a bit of leverage in our corner..."

"Really, what's that?" Carter demanded.

He couldn't help himself... This seemingly lunatic claim left the Staff Sargent wondering if his young corporal had finally gone round the bend. Before him he saw nothing remotely resembling leverage, only yet another nasty reality of war...

"Alphonse." Harper replied, looking rather pleased with himself, but when this answer failed to garner a response from Carter, he began to elaborate. "He's been ill, Carter, barely fit to travel... So I'm well within my rights to expect 'help' caring for him in transit."

"Yeah, and there's a whole truck load of medics just a few miles up the road. What on earth makes you think Buxton won't to just commandeer one of _them_ on the way by?"

"Because we have Winry right here... Winry, a women, who on one hand knows the brothers intimately, not to mention their most recent whereabouts, which makes her a liability if we leave her... But on the _other_ hand, this same women _has_ medical training, has in fact _treated_ the Elrics in the past, and is _romantically _involved with our current and only translator, which as a bonus, makes _him _a hell of lot more amenable to this whole scheme... All together, I'd say that makes her an invaluable _asset_, but _only_ if we bring her along... the choice seems pretty clear to me..."

Carter was dumbfounded for a moment at the simplicity of it. But in his continued silence, Harper's bravado seemed to fade, and he began to look anxious.

"... Am I wrong, Carter?"

They had reached their destination, and Harper paused in front of Buxton's door, clearly trying to gauge Carters reaction

"Well" Carter said finally breaking his silence. "It sounds convincing enough to me... come on Harper, let's go inside and see if we can sell it to our pet bureaucrat"

With that he pushed open Buxton's outer office door...

.o0o.

_She wasn't sure what had done it, maybe a noise, she couldn't tell, but something had drawn her out of the building she now called home... _

_ Despite what one might think, it was hardly silent in the cavern that housed the 'lost city'. The sound just one single drop of water made after falling hundreds of feet to the streets below, often sounded just like a gunshot... But it was never just one single drop, this cave was leaky as a sieve... And then there was the sound all that water made collectively, as it flowed down to the more flooded portion of the cave, that trickle become a gentle but constant roar that filled the stone confines like the static between radio channels. She'd even begun to notice the rumble of heavy vehicles filtering down from the streets overhead. _

_ Still something had brought her out... The building she'd chosen was near to the array. She supposed it was so that she could be there if they ever came back. Now as she stepped out into the square that housed the immense design, she spied a figure dressed in military blue, crouched at the far side of the perimeter. _

_ She gave a disgruntled sigh as she spotted a silvery flash near his hand. Typical souvenir hunter, she growled internally. She'd seen them down here a few times before, but she'd always been too exhausted to confront them until now, and by 'them', she meant the men who had been tasked with protecting this place from people that might sneak down here to defile it. It was ironic, she knew, but also so infinitely predictable... _

_ She'd had enough, it had been a very hard day, and her patience was gone. She set off across the square at a quick pace, intending to give the bastard a piece of her mind... How the hell were they supposed to get back, if pissants like him kept chipping away at the array? Pretty soon there wouldn't be anything left! _

_ So intent was she on her mission, that she wasn't especially careful about keeping an eye to the ground she was walking on... About a quarter of the way across, she stumbled on an uneven patch of stone. Her momentum carried her to the ground, and she landed hard on her hands and knees. _

_ 'Smooth, Winry' She said, quietly scolding her self. _

_ Her one knee really stung from where she had scraped it on the rough earth... But as she sat back on her heels, lifting her hands from the ground to brush her self off, she felt something sticky on the fingers of the left. Turning it over, she saw a thick red-brown substance coating part of the palm and three fingers... Her eyebrows drawing together, her focus fell to the ground or more specifically to the line on which that hand had landed. _

_ 'What in the world...?' _

_ Then she caught a whiff of a metallic odor. _

_ 'Blood?' _

_ She leaned down to get a better look at the line. It was, and it was fresh, or at least fresher than the lines it repaired, but who could have done this... _

_ As the pieces clicked into place, she looked up at the person she had come to berate. She was close enough now to make out his features. _

_ 'No' She whispered as he placed his white gloved hands flat on the ground with clear purpose... _

.o0o.

"Do you think she knows?" Harper whispered surreptitiously to Carter, following her with his eyes as she crossed to the wood stove in the corner.

It was almost time to leave, and they had come bearing a change of clothes and food trays, as Harper knew they had not eaten the night before.

"Did you _miss _the way she glared at us when we came in? If looks were daggers, my friend, we'd be Swiss cheese..." Carter replied, also keeping an eye on her.

Their reception had been decidedly chilly, she'd barely acknowledged it when they entered, and had yet to utter a single word to them... Deciding it might be better to deal with Mustang directly for now, they set down the trays, and made their way to the corner cot where Mustang still lay sleeping. But as Harper reached out to wake him, she came quietly up behind them.

"Don't touch him." She said harshly. Her sudden appearance caused them both to jump, as she pushed between, going to kneel beside the cot. Gently she reached out with one hand, to rest it on his shoulder, her other arm bore the clothes she had just now taken down from above the stove.

"Roy, Harper and Carter are here..." She said softly.

After a moment his eyes slid slowly open, a smile crossed his lips as she came into focus. The one she gave him in return was melancholy but warm, and for a moment he could nearly forget they weren't alone. He reached up to touch her face, but noticed Harper and Carter shifting uncomfortably behind her...

Dropping it, he pushed himself stiffly into a sitting position, then rubbed his face with both hands in a vain attempt to wipe the exhaustion away. She placed his now dry clothing beside him on the cot, and he shot her another weak smile of thanks as he began to pull them on. The exchange was not lost on the two observers, but as she reluctantly rose to leave them alone with Mustang, Carter spoke up.

"Winry, will you stay please? What we have to say concerns you too..."

For a instant, it looked like she might refuse, but finally, grudgingly, she took a seat next to Mustang. Though she remained silent, her eyes lost none of their venom as she glared up at them.

"Well, go on and tell them Harper, it was your idea after all..."

Carter then abandoned him to retrieve the trays, making Harper the sole focus of her ire. He shifted uncomfortably, and cleared his throat twice before he began.

"As you may or may not have surmised, Carter and I went to see Buxton after we spoke last..."

This he addressed mostly to Mustang, but she responded first.

"Yes, get on with it" She said, her words clipped to illustrate just how short her patience had become. So, with a swallow and stammer, he got to the point.

"W-well... After careful consideration, Colonel Buxton has agreed to let you accompany me as my assistant, owing to your medical qualifications, and prior knowledge of the patient..."

Watching her face carefully, he saw it turn first from anger, to confusion, then disbelief, and finally, joy. Releasing a squeal of gratitude, she leapt to her feet and hugged his neck. He couldn't help but grin at her enthusiasm, as he patted her arm. While Mustang was a touch more reserved in his thanks, standing to warmly shake his free hand, Harper could see in his face that he felt just as strongly.

"Thank you, thank you both." He said to them, as Carter returned, bearing the trays.

"Don't thank me, it was all Harper's idea, I just went along to show my support" Carter answered nonchalantly, setting the trays on the cot across from them.

"Then will you at least accept my apology..." Mustang asked when Carter had turned once more to face him "What I said to you before, about following orders, it was inexcusable..."

But Carter just smiled wanly and shook his head.

"Think nothing of it"

Mustang started to protest, but Carter waved him off.

"Eat up and get changed, We'll be leaving in half an hour"

"Changed?"

Carter gestured to the rolls of clothing Harper had been carrying

"Buxton said 'Your drafted, you should look the part'..."

He nodded to Harper, who returned it.

"We'll leave you to it"

Then they both took their leave, going out the way they'd come.

.o0o.

Twenty minutes later they heard the splash of vehicles pulling up outside. The rain had let up a bit, but the damage was already done. The sudden excess of moisture was quickly turning the dusty track outside into a quagmire.

At the sound of the trucks, Mustang opened the door at the front of the ward. Across the way he watched Hanson and Bailey lead Edward out of the stockade and help hoist him into the back of the truck.

"I think it's time." he said turning back to her.

Just straightening after rolling up the cuffs of her new, too long pants, she nodded and walked to him. Taking his hand, she smiled up at him as he pulled the door shut behind them, and lead her down the stairs. She swung their entwined hands playfully back and forth as they approached the rear of the truck, but all motion stopped dead as Edward, already seated in the back of the truck, entered her view. She fell back a step, tucking behind Mustang like a shy child meeting a stranger, but she did not let go of his hand, instead her grip tightened.

"Miss Rockbell, so nice to see you again... We very much appreciate your assistance in this matter."

Unnoticed until now, Buxton sat across from Ed, studying them both carefully. Also unnoticed 'til this very moment, were the chains that hobbled Ed, and the manacles that bound his wrists...

"Same goes for you Mr. Mustang, a pleasure as always..."

Something about his easy tone left Mustang feeling decidedly _un_easy, it was almost sinister. The sound of more approaching footsteps and the jangle of chains alerted them to the arrival of the second brother. They turned in time to catch the last of a glare Harper had aimed at Buxton.

"I don't see the point of this, Colonel, in his condition he's hardly a flight risk!"

But his outrage was overlooked, as Buxton's attention was riveted on Al's reaction to seeing Winry.

"So she really does know them... I thought maybe Carter was going soft on me, when you and he asked to bring her along..."

Winry, oblivious to this comment, dropped Mustang's hand and went to Al... She embraced him with a tearful smile, and they probably would have stood there together for some time, had Harper not spoken up.

"Winry, he's not well, we need to get him in out of this weather." He said gently, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She lifted her head from his shoulder and nodded, as she stepped back. Together, she and Harper helped Al into the truck. Then, after Harper had climbed up into the truck himself, he offered his hand first to Winry, then Mustang. Bailey and Hanson quickly climbed up after them, and they all took their respective seats on the two benches that sat parallel to the side walls. Winry on the left between the brothers, he, Harper and Buxton on the right in that order. Bailey and Hanson sat on the ends facing outward with guns at the ready. Carter and Harry climbed into the jeep behind them, then he watched Dell and Hicks walk towards the front of the truck. Shortly there after he heard two doors slam then the engine rumbled to life, and with a jolt they were rolling.

They hadn't gone more than a mile when Buxton clapped his hands onto his knees, then turned to Mustang.

"Well, let's get on with it, shall we?"

"Sir?" Inquired Harper.

"I don't see any reason not to use this opportunity, do you?" Buxton said, turning to address the corporal. "It'll be a long ride, why not take advantage? Mr. Mustang, if you please...?"

Without further hesitation, he turned to the brothers, and began to speak, with the clear implication that Roy should begin translating immediately.

"Here's what is going to happen... I've been authorized to offer you a nice safe comfortable new home in the states, free from prosecution for any misdeeds you might have committed during this conflict. In return, you are going to help us learn everything there is to know about this project you two were working on, and if possible assist in developing it further."

As mustang finished the translation, Ed gave a look of disappointment and shook his disgustedly.

"You may be a different partner," He muttered in German. "But it's just the same old song and dance"

"If you won't do it for yourself, do it for Winry, wouldn't you want to see her safe? You could take her with you? From what Harper says you three were very close, she must be like a daughter to you..."

An amused look crossed ed's face, and he laughed sarcastically.

"Go to hell, I'm done helping mankind destroy itself."

Ed's response, once translated, caused Buxton's face to darken, and there was a coldness that came into his voice as he continued.

"How ever you view her, I don't believe you wish her ill... Just as I was sent here to offer you the protection of the United States government, let me assure you that if you choose not to cooperate, I am also quite capable of making things decidedly _Un_safe for you and anyone you have ever held dear..." The edge of menace in his even tone was quite clear, as he threw a meaningful glance toward Winry, but Ed only laughed again, muttering in German...

"You bureaucrats are all the same... money, power, the bottom line. You could care less about the damage it causes, the _human_ cost... You make me sick."

Inwardly at least, Roy agreed, and would have applauded his veracity, had Ed not made such a fatal error...

Shocked speechless by the implied threat to Winry, Mustang had failed to translate this last part before Ed replied to it.

"Thought so..." Buxton said quietly, a sly and sinister smile slipping out onto his lips. "I believe we can dispense with your services now Mr. Mustang, Edward and I understand each other just fine without them..."

Elbows on his knees, Buxton hunched forward to eye Ed predatorily. "Lets get down to brass tacks, Ed. You say I'm a bureaucrat only concerned with the bottom line. Rightly so... It all comes down to cost, monetary, material, personal, emotional. Everyone has a price and my job is to find yours. I happen to be _very _good at what I do-"

As the truck rounded a curve in the road, the moonlight that had been streaming in through the back was lost, casting them into darkness and cutting off Buxton's ugly monologue.

"Dammit, now I can't see his face! Light one of those lanterns corporal, I need to see his face." He demanded, turning to Harper.

"Sir?"

"Light the lantern corporal!"

"Colonel, Are you sure that's wise?"

"Give it to me, I'll light it myself!"

In a huff, he snatched the lantern from Harper's hands.

"Honestly corporal, the front lines are miles from here..." He said, popping open his lighter as he lifted the guard to access the mantle, then as it blazed bright, he continued. "There, see? Perfectly safe"

The moments following this statement would remain surreal to all those involved for many years to come, as his words were followed almost instantly by the strangest sound.

At first none of them could identify it, that strange metallic _tink_. Then as the colonel slumped forward, a grenade blast gave clear indication of just how unsafe they really were.

The shock wave rocked the truck, but somehow it kept to it's wheels and remained upright. As it's passengers were thrown to the floor by the blast, the lantern fell from Buxton's lifeless hands and rolled under the bench, blessedly dousing the flame as it did.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

_Well that does it for this installment. I hope you enjoyed it! Please read AND Review. Thanks!_


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